House of Echoes (26 page)

‘What –?’ Joss stared at her blankly.

‘His shawl! You had his shawl over his face.’

‘I didn’t.’ Joss looked round, confused. ‘He didn’t have a shawl. It was too hot.’

But it was there, still wrapped round him, covering his head and face and trailing from Lyn’s arms as the baby began to scream.

‘Give him to me.’ Joss snatched Ned from her sister. ‘He’s hungry. I was just going to feed him, that’s all. He’s all right. He’s just hungry.’

She cuddled the baby to her, unbuttoning her shirt. ‘Go and make tea! I’ll be down soon.’

She watched as Lyn backed away towards the door. Lyn’s face was preoccupied and uneasy as she let herself out onto the landing.

‘Silly Aunty Lyn.’ Joss guided Ned’s mouth towards her nipple with her little finger. ‘As if I would hurt you, sweetheart.’ Lowering herself back onto the chair near the window she gazed out at the garden as Ned suckled, relaxing back against the embroidered tapestry cushion which Elizabeth had brought as a housewarming present.

On the bed, the rose which lay on her pillow wilted in the last rays of the sun as it moved across the window into the western sky and one by one the petals fell, small white patches on the rich colours of the crewel-work bed cover.

T
he house was very quiet after the departure of the family. As each stifling airless day followed the one before Luke and Joss and Lyn found themselves growing increasingly listless. Even Tom was subdued, missing the posse of adoring grandparents. Each morning after feeding Ned and putting him down to sleep Joss disappeared into the study where, with the French windows opened wide, she would sit in front of the Amstrad, wrestling with Richard and the climax of her story.

Twice David phoned, the last time before he set off to spend the summer in Greece. ‘Just to see how you are. Is the book going well?’ He did not mention his researches into the house any more and she did not ask.

Out in the courtyard the Bentley went to be replaced by a 1936 SS and then a Lagonda. In the shadowy coach house, the coolest place in Belheddon save for the cellar, Jimbo and Luke worked early in the morning and late in the afternoon, saving the hot midday for a swim in the sea, sandwich lunch and then a siesta under the trees. During the long evenings Luke and sometimes Jimbo too would work in the garden until dark.

Lyn, ignoring all warnings about the sun, stretched out on one of the old chairs, firmly plugged into her Walkman, while the children slept in their bedrooms. Twice she had written to Mat. He had not replied.

At her desk, Joss stared out at her sister and frowned. In spite of the liberal application of sun oil Lyn’s legs were peeling; pink flaky patches appearing through the brown. Lyn was constantly watching her. Ever since that afternoon where she had snatched Ned from Joss’s arms she had the feeling she was being checked on. She shook her head wearily and stretched her arms above her head, easing the cramp from her muscles. Tom and Ned were both growing fast, seemingly thriving in spite of the heat. Were
it not for Tom’s nightmares all would have been peaceful. Simon, called in at last at Lyn’s insistence, gave Tom a complete check up and blamed the heat. ‘He’ll settle down once it’s cooler, you’ll see.’ The arrival of two kittens from the Goodyears’ farm, christened with due ceremony by Tom Kit and Kat cheered him up enormously, but did not stop the dreams. If they were dreams. Getting up, night after night to feed Ned, and see to Tom, Joss was growing more and more tired and her tiredness was beginning to show. The book was going badly. The story wouldn’t progress and Lyn was getting on her nerves. Often now, when she picked him up Ned would start to scream. She would hug him and comfort him but as though sensing her exhaustion and her distress he would cry all the harder. And every time he cried Lyn would be there, reaching out for him, trying to take him, looking at her accusingly.

‘You see! When I hold him he stops.’ She would croon over the baby and then look up in triumph.

‘It’s normal, Joss,’ Simon said gently. ‘Babies often cry when their mums pick them up because they want her milk. It’s frustration and hunger because they can smell it so close. Lyn has nothing Ned wants, so he doesn’t bother.’

Lyn was not convinced.

The hot weather broke at last at the beginning of September. Torrential rain hurtled across the gardens, and the roof began to leak. Wearily Joss and Lyn trudged up and down to the attics with buckets and washing up bowls and Tom caught a violent cold. Wiping his nose for the hundredth time as they all huddled in the kitchen Joss had sent him off to play before going out to the door to collect the post. Glancing through the handful of letters she paused, looking at one particular envelope, then she threw the whole pile on the table. ‘Bills,’ she said casually. ‘Bills and more bills.’

‘In that case I’m going out to the cars.’ Luke stood up, stuffing the last piece of his toast into his mouth. ‘Like to bring us out some coffee at about eleven? That would be nice.’ He glanced at Lyn and then at Joss. ‘Please?’ he wheedled.

They both laughed. ‘We’ll toss for it,’ Lyn said. She stood up and began to stack the dishes.

It was Joss who carried out the two steaming mugs and a pile of home-made cookies later, leaving Lyn with the washing. Her
raincoat collar pulled up against the cold wind and streaming rain she ducked into the coach house and put them down on the bench amid a pile of brake drums and shoes and old spanners.

‘Where is he, Jimbo?’

‘Under the car.’ Jimbo jerked with his thumb towards the chassis blocked up in the middle of the coach house.

Joss crouched down. ‘Grub’s up!’ She peered down to see Luke lying on his back, groping above his head in the car’s intestines. ‘Great.’ His voice was muffled. ‘Thanks.’ He began to push himself out. As his face appeared, black and grinning from beneath the wing the car with no warning lurched suddenly sideways. ‘Luke!’ Joss’s scream brought Jimbo leaping to her side.

‘Watch out. The axle stands are slipping.’ Jimbo’s warning shout as Luke rolled clear was drowned by the crash as the car body slid down onto the ground.

Luke stood up shakily. ‘Close one!’ He wiped his forehead on the back of his hand.

‘Luke. You were nearly killed.’ Joss had gone white.

‘Fraid so. Never mind. I wasn’t.’ He turned to Jimbo who was picking up the stands. ‘What happened?’

Jimbo was ashen. He shook his head. ‘Must have been knocked, I reckon.’

‘Knocked?’ Joss looked from one to the other. ‘By me? It must have been me?’ She was distraught. ‘Oh God, I’m so tired these days I can’t see what I’m doing.’

Luke shook his head. He came and put his arm round her. ‘You weren’t anywhere near the car, Joss. Anyway, it doesn’t matter, love. No harm done. These things happen.’

‘Oh, Luke.’ Her knees had begun to shake. ‘It was me! Luke, I could have killed you.’

‘Take more than that to kill your husband, my dear.’ Luke grinned. He reached for one of Lyn’s biscuits. ‘Go on. Forget it. I’m OK.’

The rain clouds had blown themselves out by lunch time and the afternoon was crisp and glorious. Leaves scattered across the lake, and the lily pads slapped playfully on the water. Standing side by side Luke and Joss were silent as they watched a heron take off on the far side of the lake and fly laboriously over the hedge with indignant raucous squawks of complaint. One of the kittens, half
hidden in the undergrowth had been stalking it with exaggerated care. As the huge bird lifted above its head the small cat turned and fled towards the house. ‘Are you OK?’ Luke glanced at her sideways. ‘You’re not still worrying about that silly accident with the car are you?’ Joss’s face was pale and strained. There were dark circles under her eyes.

She gave a wan smile. ‘Not really.’ In her shock at what had happened she still couldn’t believe the fact that she had been nowhere near it when the car began to move. In theory she knew perfectly well that the accident had not been her fault, but deep down inside she wasn’t certain.

‘Are you sure?’ He was studying her face. Something was wrong. More than just the tiredness. He turned back to look at the water, screwing up his eyes against the glare from the sun on the dancing ripples. ‘Have you heard from David recently?’ he asked. He kept his voice casual.

For a moment she didn’t answer. Then she shook her head. ‘Not for ages. Why?’

‘I just wondered.’

He rammed his hands into his pockets with a shiver. The autumn wind was growing cold. He had seen the envelope lying in the pile on the kitchen table and he had recognised the writing, just as she must have. It had been bulky and sealed with Sellotape. The stab of rage he had felt when he saw it was irrational and violent. Why hadn’t he thrown the thing on the stove? Why hadn’t he opened it and read it? After all he could guess what was in it: more about the bloody house. At first she had ignored it – left it on the table to be lost in a swirl of newspapers and shopping lists – then at lunch time he saw that it had disappeared. Tear it up, he thought. Please, Joss, tear it up.

He took a step or two nearer the steep bank, staring down into the water to where goldfish and tench flitted amongst the roots of the lilies, faint shadows in the water – water which was deceptively deep.

‘Luke.’ Joss’s voice came from further away now.

Luke swung round. He frowned. He couldn’t see her. A raft of ripples crossed the water, rocking the floating leaves. Near the far bank a moorhen ran lightly across the lily pads, scarcely rocking them, giving sharp croaks of alarm.

‘Joss? Where are you?’

There was no warning, no sound of steps, just the sudden firm, violent push from two hands squarely planted in the small of his back as with a shout of surprise and fear he felt himself hurtling down the steep bank and into the water. No longer glittering gold, it was brown, sandy, cold and very very deep. His eyes open, he found himself staring round the murky depths of the lake, then, arms flailing he fought his way to the surface, choking, feeling the weed and lily stems clutching at his legs, pulling him back. As his head broke the surface he took great gulps of air, clawing at the leaves around him. ‘Christ Almighty, Joss, what did you do that for?’ He was apoplectic with anger and fright. ‘You could have drowned me!’

‘Luke? Luke, what happened?’ Joss was standing a few yards away. Her face was white. ‘Here, catch my hand.’ She stepped gingerly down towards the water and stooped towards him.

He grabbed her fingers and hauled himself dripping onto the bank. ‘I suppose you think that was funny?’ He glared at her, shaking himself like a dog. ‘For pity’s sake, Joss!’

‘I don’t think it was funny at all,’ she retaliated. Then her mouth twitched very slightly at the corners. ‘Oh Luke, but you did look funny, suddenly hurling yourself into the water. What on earth made you do it? Did you slip?’

‘Slip? You know bloody well I didn’t slip. You pushed me.’

‘I didn’t.’ Her face was a picture of injured innocence. ‘How could you think such a thing?’

He was taking deep breaths, trying to catch his breath. In the cold wind, he was suddenly shivering violently. ‘Well, I’m not going to argue the toss now. If I stand here much longer I’ll get pneumonia.’ He turned towards the house and strode away up the lawn. Joss stood still, looking after him. Her sudden hilarity had gone as swiftly as it had come. She hadn’t pushed him. She had been standing several yards away from him when he had suddenly given the surprised shout and hurtled forward into the water. He hadn’t slipped; he hadn’t jumped. He looked as if he had been pushed. But if she hadn’t done it, who had?

She shuddered, looking round. The moorhen had disappeared. The bright autumnal sun had vanished behind a cloud and the garden was suddenly very bleak and cold.

She watched as Luke disappeared round the side of the house towards the kitchen, then she turned and looked back at the dull
black surface of the lake, the lake where Sammy had died and she shuddered violently. Dear sweet God, it was starting.

Lyn was in the kitchen making pastry when Joss made her way in through the back door and hung up her jacket in the hall. She glanced up at Joss over the rolling pin and raised an eyebrow. ‘Luke is pretty pissed off with you,’ she said. Beside her, Tom, his sleeves rolled up was kneeling on a kitchen chair rolling out his own small piece of dough. He was covered in flour. ‘What on earth made you do it?’

‘I didn’t do it, Lyn.’ Joss went to the stove and lifted the kettle. She reached for a mug. ‘I wasn’t anywhere near him.’

‘So he jumped in by himself?’

‘He must have slipped. Do you want some coffee?’

Lyn shook her head.

‘Daddy all wet,’ Tom observed. He stuck his thumb into his dough and made two eyes. Then he gouged out a smiling mouth.

‘I’ll take him up a hot drink.’ Joss spooned coffee into two mugs and stirred the hot water. She added milk. ‘I didn’t do it, Lyn,’ she repeated firmly. ‘Really I didn’t.’

Luke was running a bath. He was tearing off his sodden clothes as Joss came into the bathroom. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘Coffee, to thaw you out. Are you all right?’ There was a long bleeding scratch on his leg.

‘Yes, I’m fine.’ He lowered himself into the hot water and reached for the mug. ‘Sorry to be so cross, but it wasn’t my idea of a joke, Joss.’

‘Nor mine.’ She sat down on the lid of the lavatory. ‘I didn’t do it, Luke. Honest. You must have slipped. I was miles away from you. I saw you just take off suddenly.’

He leaned back and closed his eyes, sipping at the hot drink. ‘If you say so.’

‘Luke, I think we should leave Belheddon.’

‘Joss.’ He opened his eyes and looked at her. ‘We’ve discussed this before. I’m sorry, but it’s impossible. Even with the money from the wine. You must see that. The terms of your mother’s will say we can’t sell it; we still need to earn a living, and our only chance is to persevere with my restoration and with your writing. Well, I suppose you can do your writing anywhere, but the cars, no. I need space for that. Space and covered accommodation, and now I need Jimbo. That lad is worth his weight in gold.
He has a real feel for old cars. And here I can put the fiasco of Barry and H & G behind me. They’re never going to catch the bastard. It’s no use me thinking they will. I needed a new life, Joss. And here we have room for Lyn too. It’s perfect in every way.’ Putting down his coffee he reached for the soap and began lazily to lather his arms. ‘I know you’re nervous about the stories about this house, but they are so much crap, you must know that at heart. You mustn’t let people wind you up. People like David.’ He glanced at her again searching it for any reaction and his face relaxed into a smile. ‘I’m glad in a way you thought it funny, watching your husband hurtle into fifteen feet of ice cold water. I haven’t seen you laugh for a long time.’

‘I didn’t laugh.’

‘Well, smile, then. Joss, I know it hasn’t been easy, love. Coming here, with all the memories and stories about your family. I do understand.’

‘Do you?’ She stared at him thoughtfully.

‘Yes, I do.’ He sat up, the water coursing off his shoulders and arms and reached towards the towels. She took one and passed it to him. ‘I also understand it’s not easy seeing Lyn spending so much time with the little boys, when you have to lock yourself away in the study writing.’