Laura Possessed (7 page)

Edward reappeared in due course and Peter made a dutiful appearance before being sent to the kitchen for milk and biscuits. The anticipation with which, to Laura's surprise, she had found herself looking forward to this evening evaporated, leaving her flat and depressed. Silently she followed the others into the dining-room, marvelling a little sourly at the care and attention that Caroline had lavished on the room. The massed flowers, the gleaming table and shining glass and silver all combined to give an impression of relaxed well-being and enjoyment and the meal itself was superb. None of which dissipated her growing irritation with Caroline, whose flirtation with her guest was becoming, Laura felt, increasingly blatant. She was even glad when the conversation turned momentarily to Clive Sandilands, since it interrupted their
exclusiveness.

‘They didn't get far at the inquest,' Edward remarked. ‘ “Murder by a person or persons unknown.” I could have told them that myself.'

‘I was shocked to read about it,' Lewis Castleton said smoothly. ‘I only met him that once, but he seemed a charming and brilliant man. It's ironic, really, that he should die like that. Almost as though his preoccupation with violence had somehow rebounded on him.'

‘What a macabre idea!' Caroline said with a shiver.

‘There's one thing,' Edward said; ‘his work won't be wasted. Fenella says she has all the notes and intends to go ahead and publish the book posthumously.'

‘Fenella?'

‘His assistant, Fenella Gray. She's collaborated on all his books for the last five years.'

‘I see. I heard him mention his assistant, but I hadn't realized anyone else was so closely involved with his work. Will she be staying on in this country?'

‘No, she's flying back to the States tomorrow. She is American, anyway.'

Peter put his head round the door. ‘I'm going up now, Mum.'

‘All right, darling, sleep well.'

Laura said suddenly, ‘Peter, did any of your friends come here this evening? To borrow a schoolbook or anything?'

He
shook his head. ‘Don't think so. 'Night.' The door closed behind him.

‘For heaven's sake, Laura, what is this? I told you—'

‘I know what you told me,' Laura interrupted, ‘but the fact remains that a little boy
did
come to my room this evening. Actually, it was rather unpleasant. He said his grandmother had died and he'd just been in to see her.'

‘Well, really!' Caroline began, but Lewis's voice cut across hers.

‘That's odd!' There was a jerky note in his voice. ‘My grandmother died in this house thirty-odd years ago. To the day, in fact, if I remember correctly.'

There was a short, uncomfortable silence, then Edward laughed briefly.

‘I imagine many people's grandmothers have, over the years.'

‘Yes, but the curious thing is that I sneaked in to see her, just as Laura's—apparition reported.'

‘Dear God!' said Caroline faintly.

Laura, tensed and waiting, was concentrating all her attention on Lewis Castleton. The flatness and depression had suddenly gone and she was aware of being on the brink of something strange and exciting. He was staring back at her, registering her, she felt, for the first time, and when he spoke to her, his voice held that note of exclusive
attention
that he had previously kept for Caroline.

‘What did he look like, Laura, your little boy?'

Like you, she thought, oh, God, like you! ‘He was small and dark,' she faltered, ‘with blue-grey eyes and'—memory stirred—‘a green hand-knitted sweater.'

‘Yes,' said Lewis softly, ‘incredibly enough, I remember that sweater.'

‘Great heavens, Lewis!' Caroline's voice cracked. ‘I hope you're not trying to imply that you're engaged in haunting this house!'

He dragged his eyes momentarily away from Laura. ‘Oh, nonsense. But it was my home once, remember. ‘It's rather nice to think there's still a part of me here. Still, I can hardly haunt you, can I, when I'm very much alive.'

‘But your childhood isn't,' Laura said unexpectedly, and their eyes turned with a fearful fascination back to her. She felt obliged to elaborate and went on a little uncertainly. ‘There's no reason why spirits should always be as they were at the moment of death, surely? I was discussing various theories of time with Paul the other day. If, as some people believe, time is running continuously on different levels, then we'd all have several “ghosts” to our credit, wouldn't we, of the past and of the future and therefore both older and younger than we happen to be at this present moment?'

‘How
chilling!' Edward said softly. He glanced across at his wife's white, frightened face and reached for his glass. ‘Well, all I can say, Lewis, is that I'd be grateful if you'd refrain from allowing your alter ego to alarm my sister!'

‘Your sister doesn't seem to be unduly alarmed,' Lewis said, his eyes still thoughtfully on Laura. ‘Could it have been the little boy who showed you the trees?'

‘No,' she answered seriously. ‘I had never seen him before.'

Caroline's chair scraped back. ‘For God's sake stop them, Edward! Are they mad, or am I?' She was almost in tears.

‘Yes, that's enough, you two.' Edward lifted the decanter. ‘More wine, Lewis?'

‘No, really, thank you. That was an excellent meal, Caroline.'

‘Coffee's in the sitting-room,' she said stiffly. She rose from the table and, without waiting for them, went quickly from the room. After a moment's hesitation Laura followed her and as she reached the hall, Caroline's fingers dug painfully into her arm.

‘I hope you're satisfied, now that you've ruined my evening!'

‘But, Caroline, I didn't—really. I'm sure no one—'

‘Just like a nasty little child who hasn't been getting enough attention!'

‘Very well, I'll leave you to have your coffee
in
peace. Please say good night to Lewis for me.'

Astonished at her own composure, Laura ran lightly up the stairs, rounding the bend just as the men came out into the hall below. As she pushed open her bedroom door, the strangely buoyant confidence that had been with her for the last few minutes exploded into a brief, illuminating burst of sheer happiness. It lasted only a second, but she slept more soundly that night than at any time since the crash.

Before he left for work the next morning, Edward phoned Fenella to wish her bon voyage and to ask her to let them know if they could be of any help. The weekend stretched rather flatly ahead and Laura, uncomfortable in the face of Caroline's continuing coolness, was relieved when Paul Denver phoned.

‘Do you feel up to the cinema and supper afterwards?'

‘I'd love it, Paul. Thanks.'

In the moment of meeting, his keen glance raked her face. ‘How are things?'

She pulled the car door shut. ‘All right.'

‘Did you go to the doctor?'

‘Yes. He didn't say much.'

‘And what did
you
say?'

She smiled. ‘Not much either!'

‘As I feared! And what else have you been doing since I last saw you?'

‘Lewis Castleton came for dinner last night.'

‘Oh,
dear, and I wasn't there to hold your hand! How did it go?'

She gave a little shudder. ‘It was strange, Paul. I can't describe it. At the time, I was actually glad he was there!'

‘Well, that's certainly a surprise!'

‘But I don't understand it. I still dislike him intensely. Just thinking about him now makes my flesh crawl. And yet last night—' She shrugged helplessly.

‘What actually happened?'

‘I rather think I must have had another one of my “time lapses”, and as usual Lewis was tied up with it.' She went on to tell him as factually as she could of the little boy's appearance and Castleton's interpretation of it. ‘Is it feasible, Paul?' she finished. ‘Could he have been a ghost out of time? The idea gave Caroline hysterics, and I must admit in the clear light of day it sounds ludicrous, but last night, with Lewis just across the table, it seemed the obvious solution.'

Paul said slowly, ‘God knows, but it's becoming increasingly clear that there's some connection between you, though I'm damned if I know what it is. I don't like it, Laura. All these—manifestations, for want of a better word, seem to have the effect of drawing you closer together. The dream you won't tell me about made you aware of him in the first place, and the business about the trees made him aware of you. Now this—'

‘Yes,'
she said in a low voice. ‘I see what you mean. I hadn't thought of it like that. It's almost as though, against our will, something's pulling us together.'

‘What about that unhappy aura you were conscious of in the house? Are you still aware of it?'

‘We've all been so depressed about Mr. Sandilands lately that a bit more misery wouldn't have been very noticeable.' She paused. ‘Actually, though—'

‘Yes?'

‘It's ridiculous, really, but it did strike me last night that she was actually happy for a change.'

‘ “She”?'

‘ “It,” then.' She shivered. ‘Can we talk about something else?'

‘All right. I just wish, though, that there was some way of ensuring that you needn't see Castleton again.'

* * *

Caroline, having ascertained the measurements of Lewis's windows when he phoned to thank her for Friday, spent most of the weekend making curtains, and the fifth pair was duly finished on Tuesday morning. That evening she phoned him to arrange when to take them round. The obvious step of his calling himself to collect them was never even
mentioned,
Laura noted wryly.

‘He has to be away for the day tomorrow,' she told Laura when she returned with heightened colour from the phone, ‘so it'll have to be Thursday. He has a friend coming that evening to spend a couple of days with him, so I said I'd go round after lunch and help him to hang them. I don't suppose he has much idea how to go about it.'

On Thursday, however, Caroline's careful plans were thrown completely out of gear by a telephone call from Peter's school at lunchtime. Peter had been accidentally hit on the head by a cricket ball and they were taking him straight to the casualty department of the local hospital. Could Mrs. Hardy meet them there?

Caroline stood irresolutely in the hall, obviously torn between anxiety for her son and bitter disappointment at not being able to go to Lewis as arranged.

‘Couldn't you take the curtains tomorrow?' Laura asked, in a last attempt to deny the calm certainty that was growing inside her.

‘That'll be too late. His friend will be there tonight.'

Laura drew a deep breath. ‘Then I'll have to take them, won't I?'

‘You?' Caroline hesitated and glanced at her watch. ‘All right—there's nothing else I can do. If you're ready now, I can drop you off at the bottom of Gillet's Lane. You can't walk all
that
way with the heavy curtains. Explain what's happened, won't you?'

Lewis Castleton was, of course, surprised and, Laura felt, annoyed to see her instead of Caroline, but he had to accept her explanation and also her offer to help him hang the curtains.

‘Caroline has pinned a note on each pile, to say which measurements are which,' she said as she unwrapped the brown paper parcels on the only clear surface she could see in the cluttered room. The ceiling of the cottage was so low that Lewis stooped even more, and the windows, small and diamond-paned, hardly looked big enough to warrant curtains at all. Against the walls were packing cases full of strange shapes wrapped in newspaper, and large piles of books and papers lay heaped on the floor.

‘As you see, I'm not exactly settled,' Lewis said shortly, following her glance. He had still not forgiven her for not being Caroline. ‘I've ordered a large desk which will take a lot of that stuff, but of course it hasn't arrived yet.'

Laura shook out the folds of the first pile of curtains. ‘We put some hooks in—we didn't think you'd have any.'

‘No, I haven't.'

‘We'll have to hold the curtain up to the window to decide how much to ruche it.'

‘To what?'

‘Ruche—pull it together, like this. These
two
pairs are the same measurement. Which pattern do you want in here?'

‘God knows. Whatever you've got there will do.'

They worked side by side for the next hour, mostly in silence, measuring, ruching, inserting the hooks and finally hanging the curtains. There were only four rooms in the original cottage, two up and two down, but a bathroom extension had at some stage been added behind the kitchen. There was no hall; a wooden staircase went straight up from a corner of the living-room. Very little furniture was in evidence—a bed and chest of drawers in Lewis's own room and a camp bed put up, no doubt for his expected visitor, in the other upstairs room. A couple of chairs stood rather bleakly against a wall.

‘Home sweet home,' Lewis said sarcastically, and again she realized guiltily that he had intercepted her rather disparaging glance.

‘At least it all looks bright and fresh with the new paint,' she offered placatingly.

‘I warned Harry he'd have to take me as he found me. We were out in Biafra together for a few months and I haven't seen him since. Anyway conditions here are slightly better.'

Biafra. Laura stood dreamily with a pair of curtains over her arm, imagining the whining bullets, the humidity of the thick forests, the sudden explosion of bombs—violence,
violence
which he'd seen at first hand. A memory stirred of Edward saying, ‘You should speak to Lewis—'