Beneath the Shadows Page 6

  They put a sleepy Millie into her pushchair, and then set off on the short walk down the hill. The moon was lost somewhere behind the clouds, so the only light to navigate by came from the windows of the pub. As a result, there was a faint, irregular glow over small sections of the road ahead of them, but the rest lay cloaked in heavy shadow. A strong wind lashed their faces, whipping Grace’s hair in all directions, sending it in stinging slaps across her skin. As she concentrated on keeping the pushchair steady, she waited for Annabel’s first complaint. It didn’t take long.

  ‘Hey, slow down, I can’t go that fast in these shoes.’

  Grace slackened her pace. ‘I’d love to see you trying to get down this hill when it’s frosty. You’d be on your backside in five seconds.’

  ‘We don’t all want to live in ugg boots, you know,’ Annabel answered, then stumbled and gripped Grace’s arm. ‘Bloody hell, I can hardly see the road. I feel like I’m skating over a black hole.’

  ‘Stop moaning,’ Grace laughed, sucking in her breath against the wind, the sharpness of it making her teeth chatter. As she bent her head, a fast-moving dark shape low to the ground caught the edge of her peripheral vision. She felt a twinge of fear in her chest and peered at the blackened space, but there was nothing moving now. The barghest flashed into her mind, and she quickened her pace over the little stone bridge, moving at speed towards the entrance of the pub. ‘Here we are.’

  Annabel held the door open, a blast of warm woodsmoke greeting them as Grace wheeled the pushchair inside.

  The interior of Roseby’s only drinking establishment was as quaint as Grace remembered it. The main sitting area was basically a decent-sized front lounge. Two men standing side by side would have taken up the whole width of the bar in the corner, but that probably didn’t matter much here, as there weren’t enough patrons for a queue. When Grace had been in with Adam, he’d found his grandparents on a few of the old pictures that were hung around the walls; and pointed out the darts board in the corner, saying his grandfather used to come down every Friday for a game.

  Tonight would probably be deemed a busy night for the elderly couple who ran the place, as they already had three customers in, and as many dogs. That was what she’d seen, Grace reassured herself. Someone’s dog had been nosing about outside. After all, it seemed everyone in the area owned a dog.

  ‘My round!’ Annabel trilled cheerily, and headed straight to the bar.

  As Grace unwound her scarf, she glanced up to see a man studying her from a dingy corner, but he quickly looked away. Grace had the unnerving feeling that she should recognise him – what was it with familiar faces around here? She studied his broad back as he hunched over his pint, trying to place him, but he didn’t look in her direction again.

  ‘Grace!’

  At the sound of her name, she turned to see a middle-aged couple seated in the opposite corner by the fire, wearing matching thick green jumpers. Sitting stoically to the side of them was yet another Labrador, its black fur glowing in the firelight. The woman leapt up and came over, pulling Grace into a hug.

  ‘It’s good to see you, Emma,’ Grace said, as the woman stood back.

  Emma kept hold of Grace’s arm. Her face had a rosy sheen to it, her highlighted blonde hair giving way to dark roots. ‘Grace, how are you? Any news… you know?’

  ‘No, nothing.’ Grace felt her eyelids prickle.

  ‘Oh Grace,’ Emma said, patting her arm. ‘It’s the strangest thing I’ve ever heard happen, I still don’t understand it.’

  Annabel came up to them holding two glasses of red wine. ‘Unbelievable prices!’ she said. ‘Are you sure those two wouldn’t like to relocate somewhere nearer London?’ She gestured towards the publicans, perched together on bar stools, engrossed in a quiz show on the small television set high above the bar.

  ‘Len and Joyce come with the pub,’ Emma replied, grinning. ‘It’s been a package deal for, oh, at least half a century or more. I’m Emma. You must be Grace’s sister – I think I remember you.’

  ‘Emma and Carl joined in the search party last year,’ Grace reminded her sister. ‘They live next door to me. Emma and Adam worked together hay-baling in the summer Adam lived here.’

  ‘That we did – we had a right laugh,’ Emma said. She flicked her head towards their table. ‘Come and sit with us.’ She led the way over to her husband.

  ‘Now then,’ Carl greeted them as they sat down. ‘It’s good to see you back, Grace.’ He shook Annabel’s hand.

  ‘How’s your little one?’ Emma asked kindly, gesturing to the pushchair.

  ‘She’s fine,’ Grace replied. Her memory jogged again. ‘Weren’t you…’

  ‘Pregnant!’ Emma finished for her. ‘Sure was – size of a house when you saw me last. She’s nearly one now – how wonderful she’ll have a little playmate next door.’

  Grace winced, wondering whether to explain that her plans were not long term, but instead she asked, ‘And how’s she doing?’

  ‘The baby’s grand!’ Carl cut in good-naturedly. ‘It’s the teenager that’s the trouble.’ Close up, Carl might have been Emma’s twin – ruddy cheeks that matched his solid frame, wholesome without looking fat.

  Emma gave her husband a nudge with her elbow. ‘Give over, that’s your free babysitter you’re talking about.’

  ‘True, true,’ Carl agreed, taking a sip of his pint. He looked at Annabel as he set his glass down. ‘So are you here for a visit?’

  ‘Yes, just for the weekend,’ Annabel replied. ‘Then back next week for Christmas. Grace is keeping me busy – we’ve been lugging boxes down from the attic all afternoon.’

  ‘I’m having a clear-out,’ Grace explained. ‘And doing some redecorating.’

  Carl laughed. ‘Trying to bring Hawthorn Cottage into the twenty-first century, eh? Good on you. We’ll have to take a gander when you’ve finished – we could do with updating our place, too, though where we’ll find the money for that I’ve no idea. Bit of a drag doing it in winter, though – you’d be better leaving it till the summer, the whole area is glorious then. This time of year, the weather’ll be closing in here soon. I’m surprised it hasn’t snowed already – we’re in for a white Christmas, so I’m told.’

  Grace hoped her grimace would pass for a smile. Why did everyone here seem obsessed with the snow? She was increasingly tempted to point out that she did know about snow – it fell in the south too, and people still managed to get things done. She contemplated keeping her life on hold for another six months while she waited for a summer that, in England, might never arrive, and knew that she couldn’t do it. But Emma saved her from having to explain. ‘Leave Grace alone, Carl. That’s her business.’ She turned to Annabel. ‘And so where do you live, Annabel?’

  Grace listened with a deep pang of longing as her sister launched into an enthusiastic spiel about London. It was all there for her if she wanted it: the busyness, the bright lights, the never-ending movement of it all that wouldn’t be halted for any reason, great or small. Where only a short tube ride separated the huge global department stores that Annabel lived in and the tiny hidden markets that Grace adored. Where she could meet her friends at restaurants down cobbled lanes that served exotic dishes for next to nothing. She and Adam had been ice-skating at Hyde Park a couple of years ago, their arms around each other as some people whizzed past and others grabbed onto them laughing as they struggled for balance. In London you were whipped into the cacophony of the city – and how vibrant and alive that could make you feel. Here, you had no choice but to stop and let the tranquillity enfold you. Perhaps she should go back to the south. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so different after all. She and Millie might fit right in as though they had never been anywhere else. But, she reminded herself, London could also be a cruel place with little patience, and if she tried to throw herself back into her old hurly-burly life for the wrong reasons, the city would not show her much mercy. Besides, there was unfinished business here, and she needed to deal with i
t before she could move on.

  ‘Are you ready for Christmas, Grace?’ she heard Emma asking.

  ‘To be honest, I haven’t thought about it too much,’ she admitted.

  ‘Not a bad idea,’ Carl said. ‘My sisters have it planned like a military campaign – with spreadsheets and all sorts. I know I sound like an old git when I say this, but when I was young we loved the carols and the tree and the stories as well as the presents.’ He caught sight of Emma playfully rolling her eyes and gave her a rueful smile. ‘All right, I’m off my soap-box. Come on then, our lass,’ he gestured to Emma’s drink, ‘let’s get home and kick the lad off the internet before he can cause too much damage.’

  Emma drained her glass then stood up, smiling at Grace. ‘Just let me know if you ever need me to mind Millie,’ she offered. ‘I know how hard it is without a babysitter in these parts.’

  ‘Thank you so much.’ Grace doubted she’d have a reason to take Emma up on the offer, but it was generous nonetheless.

  They watched Emma and Carl leave, then Annabel motioned towards Grace’s empty glass and asked, ‘Another one?’

  Grace glanced over at Millie to check she was still sleeping.

  ‘Come on, Grace, I need to get a bit drunk so I can spend another night in your cottage after listening to ghost stories all afternoon.’

  Before Grace could speak, Annabel was already on her way to the bar. When she returned with two large glasses of wine, Grace sat back and listened to her sister talk, growing ever more tired as Annabel became increasingly animated. Grace was debating how she could get Annabel to hurry up and finish her drink when the wind wailed abruptly into the room, then the front door was sucked back with an almighty bang.

  Everyone’s head whipped around towards the noise. A man in his early thirties stood by the door, his coat collar pulled up so high around his neck that his head appeared half-buried within it. He approached the bar with a wariness that made Grace feel on edge, though his posture wasn’t particularly menacing, and she couldn’t imagine anyone bothering to hold up a pub that was probably lucky to get to three figures in the night’s takings. As he reached the bar and spoke to the old couple seated behind it, the woman shrank back, while her husband moved slowly forward and leaned his hands on the countertop. Glowering up through bushy brows, the publican said something short and sharp, but Grace was too far away to catch it. ‘No!’ the old man shouted a second later, and banged his hand down on the wooden bar-top with a force and speed that belied his age.

  The younger man backed away with his hands held in the air as if in surrender, then turned on his heel and was gone. The couple retreated to their perches, muttering to one another, until their attention was gradually pulled back to the TV and they fell under its trance once more.

  ‘What the hell was that about?’ Annabel asked, her cheeks flushed.

  ‘God knows,’ Grace replied, her heart hammering, one eye on the door.

  ‘Well, if that’s how they deal with potential robbers here it’s most effective.’ Annabel chuckled a little nervously to herself as she took a big gulp of wine. ‘God, I never told you about Julie getting her bag snatched right off her shoulder in the Sail and Anchor, did I? We all gave chase and the bastard obviously got scared, as he dropped it with everything still inside – one for the girls, hey! She sends her love, by the way.’

  Grace smiled and gave responses where required as Annabel continued to gossip away. Her head was somewhere else, however – remembering the man who had stood briefly by the bar. As he had turned she had recognised Ben straight away.

  In the morning he would be coming to the cottage. And she knew absolutely nothing about him.

  8

  An hour later, Grace and Annabel walked up the hill, their breaths sending clouds of mist into the icy air. The wind had dropped, but Grace’s head was swirling, both from the wine and the commotion.

  There was a loud screech, and Annabel cried, ‘Jesus, what was that?’

  ‘I heard it the other night too. It’s probably a bat or something.’

  ‘Oh for God’s sake.’ Annabel quickened her pace. ‘It scared the life out of me, whatever it is. Let’s get inside.’

  As they reached the cottage and Grace unlatched the gate, she automatically looked back down the road towards the pub. A man was standing outside, silhouetted by the light from the open door. She couldn’t see his face at all, only the outline of him, but she was sure he was watching them.

  ‘Look,’ she hissed at Annabel.

  A moment later, the man wheeled around and they heard the distant creak and slam of the pub door.

  ‘That was odd,’ Annabel said. ‘Do you know who it was?’

  ‘No idea.’

  Annabel gave a visible shudder. ‘This place is creepy, Grace. Why on earth did you and Adam move here?’

  Grace didn’t want to dwell on that right now. ‘Emma and Carl were nice enough, though, weren’t they?’

  ‘Yes, thank goodness,’ Annabel agreed, and her mood seemed to lighten. ‘Right, get that little one into bed and we’ll crack open another bottle.’

  Grace was about to say that she was tired, but before she could speak, Annabel gave her a look. Grace knew she wouldn’t be let off easily. ‘All right, just a glass. You do realise Millie will probably be up at dawn.’

  By the time Grace had settled Millie into bed, Annabel had poured the wine. Grace was about to take a sip when both of them suddenly jumped as someone banged hard on the front door.

  ‘What the hell…?’ Annabel spluttered on her drink.

  Before Grace could even reply, there was another bang. She got up, opened the curtain a fraction and peered towards the door. She could make out a shadowy figure. Annabel joined her, pulling the curtain further back. ‘He doesn’t look like an axe murderer,’ she said thoughtfully.

  ‘Do axe murderers knock?’ Grace whispered. They looked at one another and burst into nervous laughter.

  As Grace turned again to the window, trying to get a better look, the man glanced across, staring straight at her.

  She stepped backwards in shock. It was the man from the pub, she was sure of it. And now she had seen his face, her memories shifted, forming an old picture. She had opened the same door to him twelve months earlier. She could still remember how her hands had trembled as she let him inside.

  ‘It’s okay,’ she told Annabel. ‘I recognise him.’ She headed through the hallway and opened the door.

  The man on the step was short and thick-set, his face red from the cold, his eyes watering in the wind.

  ‘Now then, Grace.’

  ‘It’s Niall, isn’t it?’

  ‘That’s right.’ He looked pleased that she remembered. ‘Can I come in for a minute and have a word?’

  Grace turned to see Annabel brandishing an umbrella, as though ready to use it as a weapon. Her stance jolted Niall into understanding.

  ‘I’m sorry, love.’ He ran a hand over his face. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you. I was caught unawares when I saw you at the pub. I couldn’t place you right away, but when I realised who you were I reckoned I’d better come up and see you.’ He held out a hand to Annabel. ‘Constable Edwards, call me Niall.’

  He was much smaller than Grace remembered, but perhaps the uniform he’d worn when they’d first met had made him more of a presence. His eyes were the same, though – extending an unspoken compassion that Grace found as unbearable now as she had done a year ago. In his presence it was impossible to pretend that nothing was wrong.

  She realised they were waiting for her to speak. ‘Come in,’ she said, and stepped back to let him through. ‘Annabel, this is the policeman who came round first on the night Adam disappeared.’

  Niall waved away Annabel’s offer of a drink. He sat on the edge of his chair, his hands clasped between his knees. ‘How’s your little lass doing?’

  ‘She’s fine,’ Grace replied. ‘She’s asleep upstairs.’

  ‘That’s good.’ He looked pleased.
‘I’ve often thought about you two, you know. I have to say I didn’t think I’d see you back round these parts.’

  Grace stiffened. ‘There are things that need sorting out. I want to tie up the loose ends, so Millie and I can move on with our lives.’

  ‘Well, that’s fair enough. I kept an eye on the investigation, and I don’t think much has changed…?’

  ‘No.’ Grace looked into her wine glass, swirled the liquid and took a large sip. ‘I haven’t heard from the police recently.’

  Niall’s sigh was sympathetic. ‘It happens, I’m afraid, when there are no new leads, and new cases coming up all the time. Everyone scurrying about, overworked and under-paid. Did you have a Family Liaison Officer?’

  ‘Yes – Ken Barton.’

  ‘Have you told him you’re back?’

  Grace shook her head. ‘No. Should I?’

  ‘Wouldn’t hurt. But listen, I won’t keep you.’ He got to his feet, then fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. ‘Have you got a pen handy?’

  Grace found one for him. He scribbled on the paper. ‘If I can be of any help to you, while you’re here…’ She looked at the mobile number scrawled on the scrap he’d handed to her.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I’ve two lasses of my own, and I’ve always found it hard to believe that your husband just ran off that night, leaving your bairn on the step like he did.’

  Grace’s jaw felt tight as she replied, ‘I don’t think we’ll ever know what really happened. But now that a whole year has come and gone without a word, I’m trying to accept it. I’m only here to sort out the cottage.’

  Niall nodded. ‘Well, I’ll leave you be then.’ He turned for the door.

  After they had seen him out, Annabel considered her for a while, then said, ‘Are you going to tell me?’