Freya's Quest (16 page)

I became lost again in the detailed descriptions of the author’s walk around the ruins. The lead from the roof had been stripped off in the Twenties so now all the floors had rotted away. I could recognize the formal rooms, extensively water-damaged, with plasterwork peeling off the walls, fallen beams contorted at odd angles, and floors piled high with masonry debris.

The library still had bookshelves in situ. Something about this particular photograph struck me as strange, but I was distracted by the confusing text. It took me a while to realize several pages of description were missing. I had also expected to see formal plans of the building, included at the end of every other chapter. I felt along the seam of the binding, detecting a roughness which told me the pages hadn’t fallen out naturally.

Disappointed, I cast the book aside and delved into further volumes. Two didn’t mention the Lodge at all. The third had a picture and description of the Edwardian mansion Veronica had told me about.

The fourth was more interesting. It was a calfskin-bound volume, privately printed before the last world war. One grainy black-and-white photograph showed the Lodge in a less ruinous condition. But the author’s sketch of the inside of the chapel was far more intriguing. Emily had been wrong about its history; the chapel had been in perfect order then.

This had also excited the author, as he hypothesized about the bizarre carvings and whether the chapel could be still in use. There were descriptions of his failed approaches to Sir Frederick Faversham, as he’d tried to unravel the mystery. He also told of discussions with locals, who’d remained silent as well. One vignette caught my eye:

going into the local public house, I came across an old foot soldier, in his nineties, who’d lost a leg in the Indian Mutiny and had returned to England to work on the von Eschenbach Estate as a servant, until retiring around the turn of the century. He elaborated at great length about the former glory of the house and gardens, but was muted upon the question of his reclusive employer. When I mentioned the chapel, his eyes widened, his pallid countenance paled still further and his hand gripped my wrist. He struggled to speak.

I cursed aloud when I saw the next few lines had been blacked out by unknown hand.

Suffice it to say, he warned me to stay away for my own good….

I closed the book, keeping it tightly clasped as I pondered its contents. Then I gathered all the volumes together and deposited them back on the shelves.

I found no sign of Janis after leaving the library, so I bounced up the stairs, eager to quiz her on what she knew of the Lodge’s history.

All I discovered was a trail of discarded clothing along the landing and through the open doorway of her room. I could hear the sounds of lovemaking, yet I denied their existence, needing further evidence before the truth could sink in. As I craned around the door, Dylan had his back to me, with Janis’s head over his shoulder. When she saw me, she carried on regardless, increasing her moans in response to him and never taking her eyes off me.

I stood perplexed for some time.

Then I ran off to the toilet. And I cried genuine tears.

Janis came and found me in my bedroom later on, whilst Dylan prepared the evening meal. I was under the bedcovers, fully clothed, still trying to come to terms with what I’d witnessed.

‘Can I come in?’

‘No!’

She walked in anyway, holding onto the door.

‘Look, I’m….’

‘Go away! I don’t want to talk to you!’

I threw the clock from the side cabinet at her. She retreated, using the door as a defensive shield. The clock made a large dent in the wood panelling.

I pulled the bedcovers over my head and curled up into a foetal position.

Janis ignored what I’d said and crept over to the bed. She pulled off the duvet and laid her hand upon my shoulder. ‘Hey. I’m sorry about before. I acted like a brazen hussy, I know.’

‘Leave me alone!’

However much I tried to fight her off, she stayed sat on the bed, waiting for my anger to subside.

I sat up and folded my arms across my chest. I stared ahead, rather than at her, trying to calm myself. I worried about unleashing my fury. Luckily, Janis remained silent, not antagonizing me further. As I regained my senses, I turned to her and was surprised to see tears running down her face.

‘I’m the one who should be upset, not you! Why are you crying?’

‘You looked so innocent. So vulnerable. You reminded me so much of the first time I caught him screwing someone else.’

‘Huh! How old were you when you first had him?’

‘Nineteen. Twenty maybe. Not too many months after Dylan’d come out of mourning.’

‘And how long after that did he cheat?’

‘Not long. A matter of days. A week maybe.’

‘Blimey!’ I exclaimed. ‘So you think that makes it all right to do the same to other people! To women like me? Screwing in secret’s one thing. But to milk it in the way you did, well, that just takes the biscuit.’

‘You’re right. It was despicable. Dylan doesn’t think much about anyone other than himself. That can sort of rub off on me. But listen, unlike him, I can empathize. I’m not going to be so arrogant as to presume what you’re going through. But I have been there myself.’

‘OK….OK….I appreciate you have.’

‘And I’ve seen plenty of other women go through it, too. Or be cajoled into group orgies.’

‘Never!’

‘Yes. When I told him you’d seen us he even asked me if I’d consider a threesome with you and him.’

I edged further away from her. ‘I hope you told him where to get off!’ I cried indignantly.

‘No, ’course not. He’s asked me plenty of times before. And I’ve complied more often than not, too. But you’ve given me your answer. And I respect that.’

I was dumbfounded, as I watched her climb out of the bed and move over to the window. She stared out through the gap in the curtains. I thought she looked disappointed.

‘Don’t worry,’ she said, turning back to me when she sensed my increasing agitation. ‘The matter won’t go any further.’

I sat up, bringing my knees towards my chest and drawing the duvet tighter around me.

‘Listen,’ she said. ‘Let me make it up to you. I’ve got one last day off tomorrow. Why don’t I take you on a mountain walk. I could bring E-J along, too. That’ll cheer you up, I’m sure.’

I contemplated this idea for a moment. ‘OK. It’ll give me a chance to talk to you about all these legends of devil worship I’ve been hearing about.’

Janis swung her head round sharply.

There was a panic in her eyes.

This was only momentary. Later, I had to question whether or not I had truly witnessed it.

She didn’t move for some time. A vacant stare ensued. Only her hands gripping the curtains until her knuckles went white told of her underlying state.

I came over and put my hand on her shoulder, concerned.

This brought her back into the real world and she was suddenly consumed with mirth. ‘Oh, not that old chestnut! There’s a legend about the old Baron when he lived here. But that was a hundred years ago! The locals are a very superstitious breed. It’s been blown out of all proportion.’

‘I see.’

‘You haven’t been delving into Dylan’s selection of Gothic novels as well, have you?’

‘No.’

Janis was overcome by fits of laughter now. Yet her banter seemed more hysterical than real.

She struggled to calm down. When she did, she changed the subject. She consulted her wristwatch. ‘Oh, I must dash. The childminder will be getting worried.’

‘Childminder? Can’t you get your mother to look after her and save the expense.’

‘I’d never let her anywhere near my daughter! Not on her own, anyway.’

‘Why ever not?’

‘Do you really have to ask? After all the damage she’s caused to her own children!’ She delivered this with a venom that belied her usual demeanour.

‘Sorry. Didn’t realize it was such a sore point.’

She composed herself, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans. ‘Freya, it’s me who should be apologizing. You’ve reminded me how much I hate her.’

‘Why?’

‘No doubt you’ll learn the full truth in the end. But you’ll need to find out from her.’

I felt cheated.

‘Don’t worry. Don’t let my issues upset you….You’ve got enough to think about….Listen, I’ll pick you up about eight?’

‘Eh?’

‘In the morning. For our fell-walk. I do want so much for us to be friends. This is my way of making amends.’

I hesitated. ‘OK.’

She came over to me and kissed me on the cheek. Then she was gone.

A short time afterwards, I heard the distinctive noise of idiosyncratic French engineering, which confirmed her departure.

I climbed out of bed and closed the door, locking it securely and placing the key under my pillow. Then I undressed, turned off the light and slipped under the sheets.

Later still, I heard my bedroom doorknob rattle. Dylan had arrived even earlier than expected, leaving a dinner tray outside the door.

‘Please let me in, Freya. We need to talk.’

I didn’t respond to him.

He pleaded with me again, but I kept silent.

I heard him cuss, then walk off down the corridor, banging his fists into the wall as he went.

WE SET OUT on our fell-walking adventure early the next morning. E-J was as excited as ever. Janis drove past Keswick, heading southwards towards the idyllic Vale of Borrowdale. She halted in a car park under tall pine trees beside Derwentwater. We boarded the crowded ferryboat and relaxed to admire the picturesque scenery. The boatman piloted the vessel expertly around the shallow reaches of the shoreline, stopping off at a number of jetties dotted along the western bank of the lake.

We disembarked from the boat at Hawes End and walked slowly through the shaded forests of the lakeside. I enjoyed this pleasant walk immensely, although the paths were swarming with tourists. However, I was not expecting the steep open climb up the twisting pathway on the lower slopes of Cat Bells.

As we climbed the long, grassy ridge, over a number of small summits, Janis named all the features we could see: Derwentwater, Keswick and Skiddaw on one side, and Causey Pike, Sail, Robinson, Hindscarth and Dale Head on the other.

I soaked up these panoramic views, happy they provided the excuse to rest every few yards. I was not used to such strenuous climbing! Consequently, I found it extremely difficult to keep pace with my companions. What made matters worse was that every time I thought I was reaching the summit, and used up all my reserves in a bid to conquer the mountain, I found there were further climbs beyond, hitherto hidden from below.

At last the highest point was reached! I collapsed on the rocky crest, sitting down next to Janis and E-J. ‘Christ, that was tough!’ I said, breathing laboriously, my face red-hot.

‘I can see you’ve never done any fell-walking before. This is pretty straightforward stuff.’

‘What? Even with sheer cliffs either side of the path?’

‘This is a wide ridge, Freya, there’s plenty of room. Walkers are perfectly safe in this weather. The route is obvious, even in mist. And I wouldn’t exactly call that drop a cliff! Now the abseil the other day, that’s what I call sheer.’

‘Yes.’ I gulped, remembering the terror. ‘But I was roped for that!’

‘When you get a bit more experienced, maybe I’ll take you along Striding Edge on Helvellyn in the midst of winter. Then you’ll realize how tame this ridge is.’

She chuckled when my expression told her I wouldn’t relish such a challenge. I’d never heard of Helvellyn, but the word “Edge” raised my anxiety.

‘Having said all that,’ she carried on, ‘one must never make fun out of any of these mountains. They’re not the Alps, but they’re still quite capable of killing and they do so every year. I’m involved in my local mountain rescue team. Most deaths are the result of inexperience or lack of equipment.’

Janis removed the rucksack from her back. She showed me all the reserve food supplies, extra clothing, a comprehensive first aid kit and bivouac sacks she had brought with her to protect us in case of an emergency.

‘Always be prepared. The weather can change so rapidly.’

We carried on, after taking some refreshment, climbing onto the much bleaker and uninteresting plateau of Maiden Moor. At least the gradient had levelled out now.

E-J ran on ahead, as Janis and I began to talk.

I saw this as another chance to find out more about Dylan and his past life from Janis’s perspective. She seemed happy to oblige when I broached the subject.

‘What do you wish to know?’

‘As much as you can tell me. He wraps himself up in mystery all the time. It’s as if he’s trying to further a myth that’s grown around him, in the eyes of his readership and the media at large. I need to know more about him, if I’m to understand his behaviour and emotions today.’

‘You think he’s suffering from something?’

‘Yes. An insatiable desire to have sex.’

‘I think he’s very narcissistic. He needs the attention of women to reflect back his own worth.’ She paused, rubbing her brow. ‘But it’s more than that. He lives close to the edge. Maybe he’d’ve succumbed by now without his writing and creativity.’