Amelia Grey's Fireside Dream (21 page)

Dimensions on estate agent’s notes: 10 metres × 3 metres. Height at highest point 1.5 metres, eaves are lower. Potential for conversion subject to relevant consents.

Tuesday, 8 October

Our postman was holding out a large parcel for me. I signed for it and thanked him, then took it inside.

I opened the Jiffy bag and pulled out a stack of printed A4 sheets. I read the title on the first page:
When Murder Comes Knocking
. It was the page proofs of Sunita’s latest novel. I smiled in surprise and pleasure. Resisting the temptation to start reading right away, I picked up my mobile and called her.

‘How’s it going, sweetie?’ she said.

‘Good, thanks. I just received a very exciting package, as it happens.’

‘Excellent. Glad it got to you safely. Finished it in the nick of time, before Bella arrived.’

‘I can’t wait to read it,’ I said. ‘It’s been agony waiting for this one.’

‘You might want to check the dedication.’

I flicked to the third page and immediately caught sight of my name there.

‘That’s lovely. Thanks, Suni.’

‘I’ll show you the cover when it comes in,’ she said. ‘Something bloody with a cross. Or a door knocker. Or a dead kitten.’

‘Wow! Well, I’m sure it’ll look great. How’s everything been going? How’s Nico?’

‘I’ve just heard some news you’ll like, actually.’

‘Oh yes? I could do with some of that.’

‘Nico’s got a new apprentice at the Go-Kart track, and says he’s very dedicated.’

‘Trey! He didn’t? Are you serious?’

‘Yes, he came along with his caseworker the first time, and since then he’s been coming on his own one evening a week and all day Saturday. Nico’s getting on well with him.’

‘That’s great,’ I said. ‘I’m so pleased Nico’s giving him a chance. He deserves it.’

‘He’s enjoying having someone to train, I think.’

‘How are you doing? How’s being a new mum?’

‘Can’t remember what it’s like to have a proper night’s sleep – but apart from that, we’re doing great. Been spending a lot of time with the NCT people – cracked nipple chat, but it’s kind of what I need at the moment.’

‘And Bella? How’s she getting on?’

‘She’s smiling a lot. Normal baby stuff, I know, but pretty amazing all the same.’

‘Cute. Do you think you’ll have a chance to come and visit?’ I said. ‘I know it’s a journey for you, but it would be great to see you guys, especially Bella.’

‘She’s already beating us in the popularity stakes. How about during the Christmas holidays? My family never celebrates, and that always seems to mean we spend about a week with Nico’s family … too long, even without Bella to consider. I’d much rather hang out with you guys.’

‘Great,’ I said. ‘With any luck we’ll have the cottage finished by then, so you can see what we’ve been up to.’

‘I’m glad you called actually,’ Sunita said. ‘Look, I don’t want to stick my oar in, but Carly did mention—’

‘Ah,’ I said, feeling awkward and embarrassed. ‘That me and Jack had a bit of a domestic when she came to stay?’

‘She didn’t put it like that, but she did say it seemed a little tense. She wasn’t gossiping, just worried about you.’

I sat down on a chair at the kitchen table. I guess I couldn’t hide how I was feeling from other people as well as I’d hoped I could. ‘It’s weird, Suni. We made this huge change – moving here, me giving up my job. I thought this was it – what we needed to do. But it seems it’s thrown up more questions than answers. I came here because I wanted a change in pace, in lifestyle – not to start a family. You know that.’

‘Only because you told me. Did you tell Jack?’

‘I guess I never said it straight out, but I thought it was a given. Jack knows I’m not the maternal kind. I’ve never felt that way. Dexter – yes. I can manage a cat just fine. But babies? I mean, Bella’s gorgeous – but I don’t feel any urge to have our own.’

‘It’s a tough one. That was how Nico felt at first. If it hadn’t happened by accident I wonder if it would have happened at all.’

‘There’s no chance of any accidents here. I’ve never been so religious about taking the pill as I am now.’

‘Have you and Jack talked much about it? Now, I mean, after what happened the other day?’

‘A little bit,’ I said. ‘But then we just come to a stalemate. He wants one thing, I want another. I love him – of course
I do. But how do you meet in the middle on this? There is no middle.’

‘I wish I had an answer for you, hon,’ Sunita said. ‘What can I say? I think babies are great but only if you’re ready, and only if you want one. It’s your choice. I hope you and Jack can find a way to work it out.’

‘Me too,’ I said, a lump rising to my throat. ‘We’ve done all this, Sun. Moved here, bought this place together and invested in it – and yet there’s this distance between us that there’s never been before.’

I heard an electronic crackle accompanied by the baby’s cry and then Sunita scrambling around. ‘Sorry – baby monitor,’ she said. ‘It sounds like Missus has woken up. I better deal with this,’ she said apologetically.

‘You do that. Listen, it was good to talk to you.’

‘Any time. I’m always here for you, Amelia. Now, you take care of yourself, OK?’

*

It was eight in the evening, and I was starting to wonder where Jack had got to. Even when his train was held up, he was never normally this late. I called his mobile.

‘Hi,’ he said. ‘Was about to ring you. Really sorry about this, but we’re up against a tight deadline this week preparing this pitch, and I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to make it back tonight.’

‘At all?’ I said. Jack had worked late plenty of times, but this was a first. ‘Where are you going to sleep?’

‘I’m not sure how much sleep we’ll get, to be honest. We need to have the trailer for
LoveKatz
ready for the film company by Friday, and there’s still a lot left to do. Hiro has a sofa in his office, so I’ll probably crash on that.’

‘Are there are few of you there?’

‘Oh yes, the whole team are here. We’re just ordering in some beer and pizza to see us through.’

I pictured the scene – beer, pizza, crashing on sofas in the trendy Old Street office. I felt oddly envious of Jack’s work life.

‘OK. Well, good luck with it. I hope you get everything done that you need to.’

‘Thanks for understanding.’

‘You need to do what you need to do,’ I said. I was about to say goodbye, then stopped. ‘Jack,’ I said, ‘I love you.’

‘Pizza’s here,’ came a female voice in the background at Jack’s end.

‘Go on,’ I said. ‘You don’t want to miss out on that.’

‘Thanks. And— Yes, a slice of the pepperoni one, please. Sorry. Yes, Amelia, me too. I’ll see you tomorrow evening.’

I put the phone down, and as I sat on my bed alone, the cottage seemed incredibly quiet.

*

Detective Sanders walked up the narrow ladder, and as he opened the hatch, it was the smell that hit him first. The metallic tang of blood mixed with the familiar trace scent of Formaldehyde. He had no choice now but to carry on up …

For the past hour I’d been telling myself to stop reading and go to sleep, but each chapter was more gripping than the last. All I could think about was where Detective Sanders would find the teenage girl’s decapitated body.

I felt jumpy and I wished Jack was there beside me. I glanced at the alarm clock – 2 a.m. Even if he was still working, it was too late to call him.

As Detective Sanders searched in the attic of the suspect’s home, I forced myself to put the manuscript down. I thought of the empty space above our bedroom. We’d never been into the attic. We’d never even taken a look up there. It must have been years since anyone had – I didn’t remember Callum and Spencer clearing anything out when they moved the rest of Mrs McGuire’s things. My skin prickled underneath my pyjamas, the tiny hairs on end. With the dark visions currently whirring inside my head, there was no way I was getting to sleep tonight.

A weight landed on my legs and I let out a yelp, pulling my legs back swiftly. Dexter arched his back and stared at
me, eyes wide. He must have leapt off the wardrobe. I’m not sure which of us was more surprised.

‘Sorry, Dex,’ I said, giving him a stroke. I tried to suppress the images of what might be up in the attic: bloody knives, barbed wire, the remains of …

‘That’s it,’ I announced to Dexter, who looked nonplussed. ‘I’m going up.’ I pulled on my dressing gown and slippers and switched on the main bedroom light.

The only way to stop imagining what was up there was to go and see for myself. I stepped out onto the landing, flicked on the light switch and glanced around. Shadows danced on the walls as I moved, but the cottage was silent. I wanted desperately to hear Jack padding up the stairs or boiling a kettle, the gravel crunching under tyres as he returned to the house. But aside from Dexter, I was on my own. I picked up a torch from our toolbox and took it with me.

I pushed the ladder against the attic hatch and checked to make sure it wouldn’t slip, then rubbed my hands, a little clammy from the anxiety, on my towelling dressing gown. I got a firm grip on the wooden ladder. There would be nothing up there but dust and spiders. ‘Dust and spiders,’ I whispered to myself as I went up the first couple of rungs. Nothing to be scared of.

I hate confined spaces. I hate the dark. And I didn’t think I’d cope well with finding decomposing body parts. But if
there was something bad up in the attic, it was better that we knew about it. We didn’t want to give it the chance to creep up on us in bed.

I nudged the hatch open – it needed a bit of a push and then it came free. I put it to one side and raised my whole body up and inside the dusty room. It smelled stale, and dust motes floated in the beam from my torch. If Jack was here, I knew what he’d say – forget the disembodied head, the real risk is falling right through the floorboards. I cast the torch beam around the room. It was high enough for me to stand up in the centre and the floor looked sturdy enough – I pushed on the floorboards with my hands, then I stood up.

Callum had overlooked the attic when he and Spencer came to clear the house. There were stacks of cardboard boxes, and in the corner was a black rocking horse with a faded fabric saddle. I walked over to it, and ran my hand over the worn material. I pushed it, rocking it gently. One of its ears had been nibbled away by moths.

I went back towards the ladder, and caught sight of a brown leather chest tucked away under the eaves. I went over to it, and saw that on the top, written neatly in marker pen, was the name
Eleanor McGuire
. Eleanor McGuire – Callum’s grandmother’s name sounded flowery and sweet. A name that chimed with the beautiful garden he had described to me. I prised open the metal clasps at the front, and lifted the lid.

As I shone the torch inside I thought I heard the sound of scratching. But then, as I leaned towards the open attic hatch – nothing. I was imagining things. I went back to the chest, and looked inside. There were exercise books with boys’ names written in childish script – David McGuire, Ewan McGuire – and small school uniforms, grey with checked grey shirts. Beside them were bundles of letters, photos and postcards tied with green ribbon. I opened a red photo album and saw pictures of a good-looking young woman with dark curls, her hair falling over her shoulders. Her long dark lashes were just like Callum’s. At the back was a wedding photo of the same woman dressed as a bride, the groom blond-haired and wearing glasses.

In the chest was a scrapbook, and at the back of it a folder with papers – notes and patterns on thin paper. I couldn’t see what they were at first, but as I flicked through the pages, I began to understand. They were designs for cushion covers and heart-shaped lavender bags to hang in wardrobes. Scraps of fabric accompanied the patterns – gingham, flowered and plain, in pastel tones.

I wondered where the things Eleanor had once made were now. I thought back to the drab-looking sofas and armchairs we’d seen when we first moved in. The things it looked like she’d made had certainly not been hanging up, or decorating the house. I went back to the photo album. They could be seen in the early photos: pretty curtains and
elegant throws. The pictures were in black and white, but I could tell they were in the same material as the pieces of fabric I now held in my hand. I could only assume they’d been boxed away, perhaps after Eleanor’s husband died. There had been a lot of things still in the house, but nothing as pretty as these.

I closed the book, but didn’t put it away. Tomorrow I’d tell Callum about the boxes so he could come up and clear them.

As I went to close the chest, I noticed a bronze-coloured tin box tucked away at the back, the red and teal Bluebird logo faded with age. I reached for it and tried to open it, but the lid was stuck tight. Perhaps there were sewing materials inside.

I heard it again – a definite sound this time. Scratching and scrabbling, like someone was trying to get closer to me.

As I closed the chest and latched it shut, my arms were covered in goosebumps. I took the scrapbook and tin with me and climbed back downstairs.

*

‘Callum,’ I called out to him the next morning, as he got his tools out of the van. He and Spencer had just arrived to start work at ten. ‘Have you got a minute?’

‘Sure,’ he said. He rested his things against the wall of the house and came inside with me.

‘Last night I was having a look in the attic and found a few of your grandma’s things up there. I thought that you or your family might want them.’

‘Oh, sorry,’ he said. ‘Completely forgot about the attic when we were clearing out. What kind of things?’

‘Boxes mainly, a big leather chest, a rocking horse.’

‘Dad’s old rocking horse,’ Callum said with a smile. ‘I have a feeling he’s fond of that – he’ll be glad to hear it’s still around.’

I thought about the tin I’d found with a pang of guilt. I’d tried to lever the lid off with a spoon last night, only to find it was stuck tight. I’d put it out of the way on top of our wardrobe.