The Darkest Hour (23 page)

Lucy found she was shaking her head. Happy? Was she happy? Evie’s expression had seemed to change every time she looked at her. It was challenging, wistful, enigmatic. But happy? Is that how Huw saw it? She focused on Evie’s eyes, concentrating, then shifted her gaze to the young man standing behind her.

She shivered suddenly and took a step back in surprise. Moments earlier she had been too hot, now a freezing draught seemed to be chilling her spine. She looked at Huw and saw that he had closed his eyes. His lips were moving. He was praying. She watched, half embarrassed, feeling intrusive, half curious as to what effect his prayers were having. It was presumably making him feel better, but what about Ralph? Her eyes drifted away from the canvas and from Huw and she slowly scanned the room, searching the darker corners, the shelves, the walls, but there was no sign of anything out of the ordinary.

Huw finished his prayer, opened his eyes and smiled at her. ‘Shall we go next door?’ he whispered. He turned and led the way out of the room, pausing to close the door behind them. He walked through the kitchen across the small hallway at the top of the stairs and into the sitting room.

Lucy followed, overcome with disappointment. There had been no sign of Ralph. Nothing had happened. She sat down in the armchair near the window and closed her eyes for a moment, marshalling her thoughts. When she opened them Huw was standing near her, gazing out of the window down into the street. He was looking thoughtful. Obviously aware that she was at last looking at him, he turned towards her.

‘Are you all right?’ His voice was gentle.

She nodded. ‘Disappointed. I was so hoping he would appear.’

‘He was there.’

Her eyes widened in astonishment. ‘You saw him?’

‘No, but I could sense him.’

For a moment she was speechless, then slowly she nodded. ‘When it got cold?’

‘So you did feel him.’ He sat down on the edge of the sofa, frowning. ‘I need to think about this and pray more.’ He gave her an apologetic grin. ‘You are uncomfortable with prayer, Lucy. I am sorry, but Ralph was eased by it. I am sure he was.’

‘Did you get a sense of what he wants?’ Lucy’s mouth was drier than ever.

He gave a small sigh. ‘No. You felt he was trying to say something when you saw him?’

‘I am not sure. Yes, I suppose I did.’

‘He will try again until he has succeeded in communicating with us,’ Huw said after a moment. ‘I am sure he will.’

Lucy blanched.

‘I am sorry. That idea frightens you. I don’t sense that he is in any way a threat, my dear, I really don’t. He’s unhappy and wants to tell us something. Or you. It is probably you specifically he wants to contact. Maybe it is because you are so involved with his sister. You have forged a link.’ He sat forward, gazing at her intently. ‘If he returns, talk to him as you would to a friend, but allow space for him to answer. His words may come to you in the silence, not through your auditory channels but telepathically. To speak out loud would be too much effort for him.’ He paused as though trying to gather his thoughts. ‘The reason people say the temperature drops when ghosts appear is, I’m told, that they need so much energy to show themselves to us that they take a living force from the air around them and even from the people they are trying to contact. I am no scientist, I don’t know if that is true but it makes sense. And I
am not an exorcist. As I told you I am not even part of the bishop’s team. By rights I shouldn’t be doing this at all, but it interests me so much. I feel for these poor lost souls. They are coming from another dimension to speak to us and that takes determination and effort and I want to help –’

‘So he is not in heaven,’ Lucy interrupted. She was surprised at the hostility in her own voice.

He gave a half-smile. ‘If he was, he has come back over the threshold to speak to us.’

She stood up restlessly and paced up and down the floor. ‘Would you like a drink?’

He shook his head. ‘I think I should go and leave you to think this through.’

‘And you’re not worried that I am going to run away screaming after all this?’

‘No, I’m not. You seem remarkably calm. You didn’t run away before and now you are more informed about what is happening and you know he is no danger to you you should be even more so.’

‘But that’s the point. I don’t know, do I?
You
think I am in no danger, but you can’t be sure.’ She was lacing her fingers together as she walked up and down the carpet. ‘You say I have forged a link with him through Evie.’ She swallowed. ‘Perhaps he wants to stop me writing about Evie. Perhaps he wants to silence me.’ She faced him suddenly. ‘You hadn’t thought of that, had you?’

He shook his head. ‘No, because that is not what I think. I have a strong sense that he is trying to communicate with you and my gut feeling is that that is because there is something he wants you to know. He has information.’

‘Perhaps he could write it down for me.’ She gave a halfhearted little laugh.

‘It has been known.’

She stared. ‘Seriously?’

He nodded. ‘Ask him.’ He stood up. ‘I am going to go now, Lucy. Can I come again? Please. To pray, yes, and to see if I can communicate better with Ralph. It may be that we can forge that link more successfully if we go on trying together. Do not become obsessive about it.’ He paused as though considering the word he had used and then nodded. ‘Please go on living in peace here. Joke about him with your friends if it helps you come to terms with his presence, he will understand. But allow him the space to come to you.’ He held out his hand. She shook it, taken aback by the gesture as he put his other hand over hers and stood for a second, looking at her before smiling and turning away. ‘Ring me at any time, Lucy, if you want me to come, and if I don’t hear from you I will be in touch next week anyway to see how you are and if you would like me to return. Stay here now. I will see myself out.’

She didn’t follow him down to the front door. She heard his steps moving steadily down the old uncarpeted staircase, then nothing as he walked across the gallery with its sisal matting. After a couple of minutes she heard the latch click back, followed by the bell on the front door, then the slam as he pulled it closed behind him.

She walked slowly back into the studio and stood looking round. ‘He thinks I should talk to you, Ralph,’ she whispered into the silence. She paused, half expecting a response. None came.

Branches were rushing towards her and she heard the crack and agonising scrape of undergrowth against the windscreen. All was a chaotic whirl of green, spinning over and over. She was part of the violence, the thundering, bumping, uncontrolled horror as the speed increased; she could smell petrol, felt the shriek of jagged, torn projectiles, metal against metal, the rain of shattered glass on her face and she flailed out wildly, trying to brace herself as the tree approached, the great trunk standing upright, ancient and solid, moving towards her so fast it was hard to see at all. The impact when it came was sudden and overwhelming. She saw for an instant a sheet of flame then all was black and she was lying sobbing in her bed, the sheet tangled over her, her pillow soaked in sweat and tears.

Lucy threw herself out of bed before she was properly awake, tore open the bedroom door and staggered downstairs to the kitchen. Switching on the lights she grabbed a glass and filled it with water from the tap. She was shaking all over, aware that tears were still pouring down her cheeks. Larry. Poor, darling Larry. She had tried to convince herself that he had known nothing about the horrors of the crash, that he had been knocked out before the car had hit the tree and burst into flame. The coroner had said that almost certainly he would have known nothing about it, but in the nightmare she had felt his fear and his pain and his panic as he tried to grab the wheel, tried to steady himself in the spinning, flying car. Oh God! She put down the glass with trembling hands and leaned against the sink, trying to steady the pounding of her heart in her chest. ‘Oh Larry,’ she was sobbing out loud. ‘Darling Larry. Why? Why did it happen? I can’t bear it!’

She was tempted for a moment to call Huw. Was this what he meant by ‘ring any time’? Surely not in the middle of the night, or had he expected this to happen? Had he realised she would have nightmares?

No, poor man, she would let him sleep. Larry was not part of the deal. Larry was her problem. Huw had been here for Ralph.

Hardly aware of what she was doing she headed downstairs and walked through the gallery to the back. She groped blindly for the keys to the security locks and opened the French doors which led out into the little walled garden. It was totally dark outside. She had no idea what time it was. She stepped out barefoot onto the weed-covered terrace, desperate to feel the cool presence of the flowers. Making her way to the small wrought iron table under the pergola she sat down. This had been one of Larry’s favourite places. In the summer, after they had closed up the gallery for the evening, they would come out here with a glass of wine and sit quietly talking over the day’s business and planning – planning for a future which now would never come. Her tears started to flow again and she heard herself sobbing out loud.

It was a long time before her tears subsided at last. She sat very still, listening to the night noises of the sleeping city. She suppressed another sob with a shiver. It was chilly, she realised suddenly and her bare feet were like ice. With an effort she pulled herself up and made her way back in through the open doors. The gallery was cold and as she pulled them closed behind her she realised the place smelled of flowers from the garden. It was a long time since she had put any cut flowers in here. Tomorrow, no, today, she would do it, find Larry’s favourite white porcelain vase, the one they used to put on the central table and she would fill it with roses for him.

Upstairs she ran a bath and lay in it for a while. She was exhausted by her crying. The awful reality of the dream had gone, leaving only shards of pain behind. Eventually she climbed out of the bath and dried herself. Wrapped in her bathrobe she went into the bedroom and remade her bed then she climbed in and within seconds she was fast asleep.

The next thing she knew Robin was knocking on the door of the bedroom. There was a cup of tea in his hand. ‘Not like you to sleep in.’ He put the cup down beside her.

‘What time is it?’ She sat up slowly, trying to clear her head.

‘Half past nine.’ He pulled a chair towards him and sat astride it, his elbows on the back studying her face. ‘You look like hell,’ he said conversationally. ‘Are you going to tell me what happened when the exorcist came round?’

She gave a wry grimace and reaching for the cup took a sip of tea. ‘Nothing. Not really. We both thought we sensed something, but there was no sign of Ralph – not the way I’ve seen him before.’

‘And that is it? No drama. No screams. No ectoplasm?’

She shook her head. ‘Nothing like that. It was a bit of an anti-climax, to be honest.’

‘So why do you look as though you had been to hell and back?’

‘I had a nightmare.’

‘Ah.’ He waited. ‘Are you going to tell me about it?’

‘Larry’s crash.’ She found she was breathing heavily suddenly. Her eyes were stinging and the cup rattled on its saucer as her hands began to tremble. Robin jumped to his feet and took the cup and saucer away from her. He put them down then he sat down on the edge of the bed.

‘Tell me about it. Get it out of your system, Luce,’ he said firmly.

‘I was in the car with him. Not next to him, I was him. It was falling, rolling over and over. He knew about the crash. He was fighting to control it. He hadn’t been knocked out. Then it hit the tree and there was fire everywhere.’ Tears were rolling down her cheeks again. ‘I’ve had nightmares about it before, but not like this.’

He nodded sadly. ‘Poor Lol. He sighed. ‘Poor Luce.’ He stood up. ‘I’ll go and open up and let you get dressed then we’ll have a really strong coffee to wake us both up. Good idea? I think you should give Rosebank Cottage a miss today, don’t you?’

She nodded gratefully. ‘You’re a star, Robin.’

‘I know, darling.’ He beamed at her. Neither let on that his smile didn’t – couldn’t – quite reach his eyes.

‘I finished milking early, took my bicycle and peddaled down to Field End tonight. Tony was there waiting for me in the dark, his car tucked right into the hedge. It was so lovely to see him. We made love for a long time, then he said he had to go. His friends would cover for him if anyone noticed he was out but there might be an early morning call and he needed to be able to wake up. He said I had exhausted him!!’

As they lay in each other’s arms they had heard the distant rumble of thunder. A flash of lightning lit up the horizon.

‘For once it isn’t guns,’ she whispered, her lips against his neck. The first heavy drops of rain had started to fall, releasing the heavy scent of the dry earth beneath them and he had rolled over onto his back, opening his mouth to the rain. She laughed silently and kissed him again. ‘Shall we walk up onto the top field?’ she whispered.