Beneath the Shadows (5 page)

‘Grace, are you still alive up there?'

She snapped out of her daydream and returned the photos to the box. She would set the personal memorabilia to one side, and sort through it all at once. She didn't want to spend too many days sifting through painful reminders of things that were irrevocably gone.

Grace's fingers were stiff with cold as she steered Millie's pushchair down the hill, with Annabel trudging beside her. At the bottom, they crossed the small stone bridge and headed for the next incline. ‘This is the pub,' Grace said as they passed a two-storey whitewashed building, its chimney puffing grey smoke into the frigid air. ‘Those are old workers' cottages, back when they had a brickworks here.' She pointed towards the tumbledown buildings in a row some distance away, and then indicated the hill ahead of them. ‘Meredith lives in the house up there.'

They could just make out high grey-stone walls. ‘You didn't tell me we were lunching with the lady of the manor,' Annabel said. They began the climb towards it, Grace's arms straining from the effort as she pushed Millie ahead of her. As they drew near, the house towered above them. It was set back from the road at the end of a short gravel driveway,
and formed an L-shape, a single-storey building to their left abutting the double-storey house. Four large sash windows were visible at the front, set out in a square, while trailing ivy had formed an arch over the door. A pristine burgundy four-wheel drive was parked by the entrance.

‘This place is impressive,' Annabel said as they reached the drive. ‘Why do you think they built it here, on its own?'

Before Grace could reply, a frantic barking began from inside. The door swung open and Grace found herself staring into Meredith's steely grey eyes. Grace was about to speak, when a large black dog bounded out from behind Meredith and launched itself at her.

‘Pippa, come here,' Meredith commanded, and Grace watched in admiration as the dog immediately scampered back to her owner. Meredith took hold of Pippa's collar and guided her inside, then reappeared a moment later and held the door open for them. She stood straight-backed, as though she had learned to balance a pile of books on her head at a young age and had never forgotten the pose. She hadn't gone for the looser soft perms popular with the older women Grace knew; instead, her hair was close-cropped to her head in a pixie-style, and it suited her, highlighting her bone structure, strong lines that would never change underneath the creases of her pale skin.

‘Hello Meredith,' Grace said, her warm smile fading a little as Meredith studied her. Grace was sure that on previous occasions Meredith had been affable, but the woman before them exuded a polite coolness, little more. Don't judge her too hastily, she chided herself. Remember, she's recently lost her husband. She felt a surge of empathy.

‘Hello, Grace, it's nice to see you again,' Meredith replied, holding out a hand and shaking with a strong, firm grip.

‘This is Annabel,' Grace said, as they also shook hands.

Meredith glanced at the pushchair. ‘And this must be Millie.' She knelt down to look under the shade. ‘Hello, little miss.' Then she straightened again. ‘Well, come on in.'

They were shown along a hallway, past a wide staircase and a few closed doors, before they finally walked into a vast, high-ceilinged room. ‘Wow,' Annabel breathed, echoing Grace's reaction.

In the centre, a huge square table was set for lunch, silver and glassware shining atop a pristine cream tablecloth. A three-piece burgundy leather suite was arranged in one corner, and the furniture was all a matching, gleaming mahogany. But what had really caught their attention was the vast picture window that ran from ceiling to floor on one side, framing a panoramic vista. Before them lay an endless tract of moorland, the unbroken stretch of earth drawing the eye further and further away in search of focus. There was little to find except for the occasional thicket, or the odd solitary tree standing sentinel. Without buildings to obscure it, the sky made up the larger part of the picture, and today it was a cloud-spattered backdrop of washed-out blue.

‘We had the window put in over a decade ago, when we did some major work on the house.' Meredith had followed their captivated stares. ‘When the heather is out in the autumn, the whole landscape turns a royal purple – it's quite a sight. Well, come and have a seat at the table. I'm afraid I don't have a high chair …'

‘Oh, no problem.' Grace looked over at Millie. ‘She'll be asleep for a while, I think.' She took in the smell of roasting meat, and her mouth began to water. ‘Can we do anything to help?'

Annabel set a bottle of red wine in the middle of the table. ‘We brought this. Would you like me to pour?' She set about opening the bottle, while Grace marvelled at how easily Annabel made herself at home wherever she was.

Meredith was heading out of the room. ‘Thank you. I'll just go and check on lunch.'

While they waited, Grace guided the pushchair into a corner and took a seat at the table. It was set for four, glinting silver cutlery laid out in perfect symmetry, next to side dishes that featured a delicate motif of apples and oranges. Annabel took Grace's glass and poured her a generous amount of red wine, as Meredith returned from the kitchen bearing a tray of Yorkshire puddings the size of dinner plates.

‘In Yorkshire we always serve the puddings first.' She used a pair of tongs to put a pudding on each of their plates. ‘Claire should be down in a minute.'

‘She said she was living here at the moment?' Grace asked, as she accepted the large jug of steaming gravy Meredith held out.

‘Yes,' Meredith replied as she sat down. ‘She's been on her gap year for as long as I can remember. It seems holidaying is her occupation, and work is what she does to fill the time in between.'

‘It's not holidaying, Mum,' Claire said merrily as she entered the room. ‘It's seeing the world. And I work while I'm away too, you know.' She came and took her place at the
table. ‘Hi Grace,' she said, without waiting for her mother's response. ‘And you must be Grace's sister. Annabel, is it?'

Grace tucked into her pudding as she listened to the introductions. ‘These are delicious, Meredith.'

‘Mum's been making them since time began.' Claire looked fondly at her mother. ‘She's got it down to a fine art. She may not sound like a Yorkshirewoman, but she definitely cooks like one.'

Meredith gave her daughter a wry glance, then turned to Grace and Annabel. ‘My father's side is Yorkshire through and through, but the war changed things here. He went down to London during his conscription, and brought my mother back with him. She loved the countryside, but wasn't so keen on the accent. She worked hard to make sure I spoke “the Queen's English”, as she used to say. She did the same to all the children she taught, caused a few rifts with the locals around here.'

‘My father built the schoolroom,' Claire explained. ‘The long building on the left as you come towards the house. There's quite a history to this place.'

‘Did you go to the school here when you were a child?' Annabel asked Meredith.

‘Yes, when I was small. When I got older I went to Ockton.'

‘And what was it like, having the school on your doorstep?'

‘Not much fun, actually. My mother didn't want anyone to think she was favouring me, so she was horribly strict – she came down on me much harder than the other children. She wasn't averse to using a cane.'

Meredith's tone didn't invite further questions, and an uneasy silence fell while everyone finished their puddings. As Grace laid down her knife and fork, her gaze was drawn to the mantelpiece opposite, which was full of photo frames. Claire saw that something had caught her attention and twisted around to look.

‘That's an old school photo of me and my sisters,' she said, getting up to collect one of the larger pictures, and passing it over for Grace to see.

The colours of the photograph had faded. Grace looked at the four brunettes in school uniform, their similar elfish faces, three of them with long hair, one sporting a back-combed crop with red streaks through it.

‘That's me,' Claire chuckled, leaning over and pointing to the short-haired girl. ‘I thought my hairstyle was brilliant. And Mum loved it too, didn't you, Mum?'

Meredith snorted as she began collecting their plates.

Annabel moved closer to look. ‘That's Veronica,' Claire said, her finger resting on the tallest girl at the back of the group, who was posing confidently. ‘The oldest, and the bossiest. Always was, and still is. Married to Steve the solicitor now, with three boys, lives a very respectable life in Ockton.' She motioned to the girl next to Veronica with wavy dark hair and a shy smile. ‘Next to her is Elizabeth. Liza for short. She's a year younger than me. Moved down to Leeds eighteen months ago when her husband Dan changed jobs. They've got a baby on the way. And then there's Jenny –' She pointed to a sweet-looking girl with flame-red hair, sitting at the front of the group. ‘She's the baby – though she turned thirty this year so I don't think
I can say that any more. She's only recently moved back to the area after spending ten years working down south. She teaches at a primary school – she's crazy about kids, that one. She's had some rough luck with relationships, but she's just started seeing someone, so I'm told, which means I'm the only one left on the shelf.'

‘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.'