Scared to Breathe, page 19
Chapter 40
‘I’m not moving back to Luton.’ I jump to my feet and glare at Reuben. I’m determined about this.
‘We can’t stay at this B&B indefinitely.’ Reuben sinks down onto the end of the bed and runs his hands through his hair. ‘We’ve already been here a week and it’s costing us a fortune.’
‘If you’d made more effort with the house we could have rented it by now and we wouldn’t be so skint.’
Reuben looks at the floor and doesn’t respond. The bed and breakfast we’re staying at in the village next to Lower Bramcote is pricier than the King’s Arms at Didmarton but I can’t risk taking Reuben there. He’ll find out I’ve stayed before. I sigh and sit back down on the end of the bed next to him.
‘I’ll speak to the solicitor to see if he’ll release some more funds for living expenses, after all, it’s not our fault the coach house has flooded.’ I could kick myself for not telling Reuben the machine had bounced forward. But then I wouldn’t have expected him to know so much about washing machines. His knowledge of plumbing is usually quite limited.
It’s going to be at least six weeks before we can move back in. Large dehumidifiers have been installed to soak up the moisture but it will take time for it all to dry out and then the place will need redecorating and possibly new flooring laid. The B&B had been a novelty initially but now, a week in, it’s becoming tiresome. We’re constantly driving back and forth to the Hall to supervise the project and collect essentials and we’re continually snapping at each other. We’ve also exhausted the menu at the local pub and long for the convenience of our own kitchen.
‘We could go back to Luton for six weeks then return when the coach house is habitable again. We could keep the house on the market and if we find a tenant we can stay at my parents’ place,’ Reuben says.
‘But I need to be here to make daily decisions about the building work and I have a responsibility for Bonnie.’
‘Sandy could walk her.’
‘No.’ Definitely not. I know I’m being unreasonable because Reuben didn’t have any say about Bonnie but I’m not giving Sandy the chance to win my dog’s affections. It’s bad enough that she’s pursuing Reuben. ‘I’ve been thinking… we could move into the Hall.’
‘What? It’s little more than a building site. It’s not safe.’
‘Yes it is. The loose ceilings have been removed along with the damp plaster on the walls, the floors have been relaid and the place has electricity now. We could live mostly in the kitchen and dining room.’
Reuben stares at me. ‘God, you’re serious.’
‘We can buy an electric cooker for the kitchen and take utensils from the coach house. We can move our bedroom furniture into the dining room and buy a second-hand sofa to tide us over. In fact, the insurance is paying for new furniture so we could buy a new one.’ I pause to let the idea sink in.
Reuben opens his mouth to object but then closes it again. ‘What about a bathroom?’ he says after a long pause.
‘We’ve got the downstairs cloakroom in the Hall and we can still use the bathroom in the coach house for baths or showers when the workmen have left for the day.’
‘You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?’ Reuben looks at me with a mixture of grudging admiration and resentment.
‘Yes, the large dining table can go in the drawing room for now to create space and we can eat at the kitchen table.’ I sit back in the small armchair and can’t resist a smug grin. ‘You must be fed up with being confined here by now.’ I wave my arm at the small room.
It doesn’t take long to move the furniture in and buy a second-hand cooker. The weather is far too hot to contemplate lighting the AGA. I ask Reuben to climb a ladder and take the heavy dining room drapes down then I carry them outside and beat the dust off them. They’re threadbare in patches but thankfully most of the damp is at the other end of the house so they’re relatively intact, as are the floors and ceiling joists. The side window has no curtains. I’ll need to find something to cover it. I sweep and clean and tell the plasterer he’ll have to replaster the dining room and kitchen last. The rooms looked a mess with no skirting boards and bare walls to waist height but it’s still better than Luton.
‘We should have bought some more table lamps,’ Reuben grumbles. ‘It’s too dark in here.’
He’s right. The ones from the coach house are inadequate in such a large room and the overhead lighting is a long way from being installed. I snuggle up to Reuben on the cheap IKEA sofa and kiss his cheek.
‘I’ll go to Cirencester and buy some tomorrow,’ I say.
The first night spent in Black Hollow Hall is a strange experience and neither of us sleep well. The house creaks and cracks around us as it settles for the night and I find it hard to relax. I need to get used to it though as I’ll be on my own when Reuben goes back to work in two days’ time.
‘Can’t you book another day’s leave?’ I ask as Reuben drifts off to sleep.
‘I’ve already put myself behind by taking tomorrow off,’ he mumbles groggily. ‘I’ve got another big festival coming up in two weeks’ time.’
My heart sinks. That means I’ll have another whole week on my own soon. Maybe I can invite Kirsty to stay if she doesn’t mind sharing my bed.
I lie still, listening to the strange sounds. What’s that? My heart jumps against my ribcage. Can I hear footfalls on the other side of the house? Surely not. It must be the new pipes shrinking as the night cools. I focus all my concentration on the sound but can’t hear it anymore. I must be imagining things again. Now all I can hear is Reuben’s breathing. He sounds snuffly, as though he’s getting a cold. Within ten minutes his snoring rasps and saws through the silence, leaving my nerve endings frayed and tattered. I watch him in the moonlight that shines through the side window. He’s sleeping as soundly as a teenager, I think with resentment, while I’m being kept wide awake. I fidget and tug sharply at the cover. Reuben stops snoring then lies sighing for a long time. In the morning we’re both heavy-eyed and lethargic.
‘If I don’t sleep well tonight, I’m staying in Luton tomorrow night, otherwise I’ll be fit for nothing when I go to Germany on Wednesday.’
Reuben’s tired and grumpy for the rest of the day and we constantly bicker and snap at each other. We don’t sleep much better the next night but who does when the weather is so hot? Reuben complains about the new living conditions at every opportunity – the water’s cold, the milk’s off as there’s no fridge, it’s such a pain trekking to the coach house for the shower – that I’m almost relieved when he announces he’s returning to Luton after an early dinner.
‘If I stay here I’ll have to get up at five to catch my flight and I’m already totally knackered. I don’t feel that great either. I’m sorry, Tash. I’m going home for an early night. I’ll be back late Friday evening.’
I say nothing. Home. He’d called Luton ‘home’.
Chapter 41
I need to keep myself busy after Reuben has gone so I go to the attic to fetch a box of old photos I stumbled across this morning and haven’t had a chance to look through. I put them next to the sofa in the old dining room, ready for when I return from taking Bonnie for a walk. They’ll take my mind off being alone.
Bonnie twirls and jumps up when she sees me and tries to wriggle into my lap as I squat down to ruffle her ears. Bob stands in the doorway, leaning on a stick and chuckling at us. He’s recovering quickly from his fall and claims it’s because he has someone to get up for in the mornings.
‘Bonnie has given me a whole new lease of life,’ he tells me. ‘I phone Jim every day to tell him what she’s been doing and he talks down the phone to her. She cocks her head on one side then barks at the phone like she’s having a conversation with him.’ Bob’s eyes crinkle with merriment.
‘We’ll have to take Bonnie to see him one day when you’re fully recovered,’ I promise. I wait until Bonnie stops spinning then clip the lead onto her collar.
‘I’m going to walk about the village tonight,’ I tell Bob. I need to be around civilisation and hope there’ll be someone to say hello to.
‘We’ve got storms coming,’ Bob warns me. ‘See how the wind has picked up and the sky has gone a funny shade of yellow? You’d better not be too long. I think this heatwave is about to break.’
I walk around the village green that should really be called the village yellow as the heat and drought have scorched it to a straw-like colour and texture. Even the nettles and bindweed in the hedgerows have shrivelled and the pond has a thick frame of dried and cracked earth around it. It reminds me of the stream at Black Hollow which has shrunk to the smallest vein of mud and, according to William, the lake is the lowest he’s ever seen it. I flap the front of my dress to cool my damp skin.
Bonnie tugs and pulls me to the waste bin and lamp post to inspect other dogs’ calling cards. She sniffs appreciatively then moves on to the next vertical object. I’m getting bored with this. I look about for a diversion and see Roger getting out of his 4x4 with his black Labrador in The Dog House car park. Bonnie must have seen her doggie friend because she strains at the lead and pulls me towards the pub.
‘Okay, I’ll just have a quick drink and you can see your friend,’ I tell her. I’m really hot and the thought of a chilled glass of cider is tempting. As we enter the bar the black lab rushes over and stands nose to nose with Bonnie. Roger looks across and nods politely then resumes his conversation with a man I haven’t seen before. The man turns to look at me then realises I’ve spotted him and looks away. They’re talking about me. I collect my drink then sit down nearby. Roger has lowered his voice but I don’t think he realises how loud he is and I can hear every word.
‘They’ve given him a week to find something or they’re all pulling out of the deal. Between you and me if he doesn’t get this place he’ll be finished. The land he purchased in Cirencester was refused planning and he’s lost a fortune.’
They’re talking about Julian. They look as surprised as I am when the door opens and he walks in. He scans the room and lifts a hand to Roger and the other man then his eyes linger on me longer than is comfortable. I take a gulp of my cider and pull Bonnie closer then take my cheap mobile phone out of my pocket to see if there is a signal. It’s only got one bar but I pretend to be looking at stuff. I must look in desperate need of company and the last thing I want is Julian’s.
‘Hi, Tasha.’ He’s standing in front of me, blocking the light from the window and casting a shadow. ‘Can I have a quick word?’
‘I’m about to leave,’ I say.
He glances at my almost full glass of cider. ‘It won’t take a minute.’ He pulls a chair over and sits down.
‘I’d like to revise my offer…’ he says.
‘It’s not for sale.’
‘…to 2 million.’
Crikey. That’s £400,000 over the value. Mind you, quite a bit has been spent on it already. It’s a good thing Reuben isn’t here. He’d want me to accept.
‘I’m sorry. It’s still not for sale.’
‘You’re making a big mistake, Tasha. You might regret refusing this generous offer.’ He pinches his lips together and the edges whiten.
‘Excuse me, I need to go.’ I stand and catch my leg on the table causing it to wobble and cider to slop over the top of the glass. I stride away with Bonnie without a backward glance. Julian is beginning to unnerve me. Have I swapped the Rigbys for him?
The sky’s turning everything a strange yellowy colour, as though I’m looking at it through a Quality Street sweet wrapper. I need to get back and settled for the night. It won’t be dark until ten and will be light again at five. That’s only seven hours of darkness to contend with. I take Bonnie back and let myself into the Hall. The silence wraps around me like a tomb and I give an involuntary shiver.
I want to be prepared for my first night alone in the house. I go over the whole property ensuring the windows are shut and the doors locked. The French doors in the study facing the lake have no key and there isn’t one on the bunch to fit the lock. I try the handle but it won’t open. I’ll need to get a locksmith in as it would be a shame if we can’t ever use this door. I continue around the house. The front door and scullery have huge bolts so I slide them across.
I’ve bought more table lamps and soon the dining room is lit up like a Las Vegas hotel. I’ve also got a supply of candles and a couple of hurricane lamps to hold the candles safely in case the power goes off again. Lastly, I have a supply of drinks and snacks so I won’t need to leave the dining room after my last visit to the cloakroom just before dark. I’ll get over this hurdle of my first night alone in the big house then I’ll be okay. Black Hollow is my dream home and I’m determined not to be driven out by fanciful thoughts and worries.
Sitting with my feet curled under me on the sofa, I pull the box of photos towards me and start to lift them out one at a time. The photos are difficult to decipher as I have no idea who anyone is. There are sepia ones with family groups staring solemnly at the camera – the father standing upright with his hand resting on his seated wife’s shoulder. Their clothes are tightly buttoned from the neck to the waist and the children are wearing knickerbockers and white lace. Are these my ancestors? Maybe I should trace my family history.
I feel a deep longing to know more about my real mother. Do I look like her? Is she in any of these photos? Maybe if I track her down she’ll meet up with me and we can build a relationship. I skim past pictures of gun dogs, the gardens as they used to be – Bob would like to see those – and babies with chubby thighs then stop and catch my breath as I see a photo of three teenage boys, all tall and dark-haired, and a girl. They’re standing in front of the lake, holding fishing nets on sticks. A golden retriever lies at their feet. They’re all smiling except the boy on the left who’s standing a little apart from the group as though he doesn’t want to be there. Are these people Simon, William, Andrew and Sally? Was Lynn, Sally’s older sister, holding the camera? My heart beats faster. Is this my mother? I stare at the heart-shaped face, the cloud of dark hair and the huge grey eyes – just as Bob described her. It’s difficult to comprehend that this girl could have given me life. She looks so young but he’s right. I do look like her.
I stroke her face with my fingertip then put the picture carefully to one side. I rummage through the rest of the pictures but, disappointingly, I can’t find any more of the young girl. I pick up the group photo again then get the locket out of my purse and flip it open. I stare at the picture of the young man, or rather boy, then study the photo again. I’m sure that’s the same one. Is that my father? I’ll ask William tomorrow or maybe Bob. He’ll know if it’s them. I peer again at the young girl and can just make out a flash of light at her throat. Is it this locket?
My eyes feel sore so I put the photos back in the box and set it on the floor. I’m beginning to feel tired. I’ll watch some television then turn in for the night. I switch the channel from a crime drama to a light-hearted quiz show where comedians go head-to-head to create the longest word out of a jumble of letters. The quiz is inane and the comedians’ exploits ridiculous but it makes me laugh and forget my fears of being in the old house alone. When my eyes grow heavy I wrap myself up in my thin summer duvet and fall into a deep sleep.
A sudden loud noise jars me awake but I’m not sure what I’ve heard. I try to replay the sound in my mind but it slithers away outside the grasp of my consciousness. A second later a flash of lightning illuminates the room, followed by a loud clap of thunder. That must be what had woken me. Bob was right about the storm. I slip out of bed and go to the side window. There’s still no curtain and I suddenly feel exposed even though there’s no one out there. I’ll nail a sheet over it tomorrow. The lightning flashes again and I can see across the empty lawns and flower beds to the dark woods beyond. It’s quite eerie in monochrome. The thunderclap comes almost immediately, making me jump. The storm must be right overhead.
Within seconds the sky tears apart to release a torrent of water. It falls in heavy, straight lines and obliterates my view. I turn away from the window and crawl back into bed. William will be pleased. His lawns are desperate for rain. I feel quite cosy in the warm and dry, listening to the rain outside. I’m just sinking into unconsciousness when there is a loud bang somewhere in the house. My heart pounds and I curl into a ball. What the hell was that? I pull the cover over my ears but the sound comes again, echoing through the downstairs rooms.
There must be a door or window open, slamming in the strong winds. I don’t want the old door or window to break or the rain to get in and ruin the wooden flooring. It’s no good. I’m a brave thirty-two-year-old woman, not a little kid, and I need to look after the house. I’ll have to go and investigate.
Chapter 42
I unfurl my legs and lower my feet over the side of the bed to push them into my slippers, then pull on my dressing gown, more for the illusion of cosiness it brings than for the warmth.
I cross to the sideboard to get the torch but when I pull open the drawer it isn’t there. Reuben must have moved it. Oh Jesus. Why didn’t I check the torch was there? I’ll have to take one of the hurricane lamps. I light two tea lights and put them inside then lift it by the handle and move to the door.
I hesitate. I know the crashing sound is just a door or window banging in the wind. No intruder would make a racket like that. Even so I feel vulnerable. I look around the room, my gaze falling on the poker in the fireplace. It feels surprisingly light when I pick it up. The heaviest part is the handle so I hold it upside down and, feeling braver, I open the door. Shadows dance and leap around me but I ignore the shrinking sensation that comes over me and listen for the banging to come again so I can get an idea of direction. The bang, when it comes, echoes around the great hall and almost has me spinning on my heel and running for my bedroom. Then a lesser thud. The door must have swung against the frame again and at any moment the wind will snatch it once more and fling it against the outer wall.
