The Darkest Hour (42 page)

Maggie was just the other side of it. Her hair was wild as though she had been out in the wind and her clothes dishevelled. ‘Stay away!’ she cried. ‘Ring Huw.’

Lucy ran towards the living room and grabbed her phone. Behind her she could hear the sound of crashing again and then Maggie’s voice. It sounded as though she was swearing.

As soon as it had started it was over. Maggie appeared in the living room. She looked exhausted but she was smiling. ‘We have a real evil so-and-so here. Something has stirred him up and I reckon it was Christopher. Did he come upstairs at all? Did you reach Huw?’

Lucy nodded. She was shaking. ‘He’s on his way.’

‘Good. I am sorry, Lucy. This is awful for you and not that good for me, to be honest.’ Maggie blew her hair out of her eyes with a great sigh. ‘I have never come across anything like this before. Testing times.’ She gave Lucy a determined smile. ‘I want you to come and stay with us for a few days. I suggest you pack a bag, my dear. Bring your research material – anything to do with Evie and her story – and we’ll put a notice on the door downstairs saying that the gallery will be closed for a bit. I know it’s not good for business, but better we sort this out completely. I want you to be able to be happy and safe here.’

This time Lucy didn’t argue. By the time Huw arrived she had collected up all her research, her letters and notes and books and thrown some clothes into a suitcase.

He ran upstairs two at a time after Maggie went down to let him in.

Lucy was happy to leave it to them. She sat looking out of the window, her eyes fixed on the rooftops opposite where a crow was sitting on the TV aerial surveying the street below. Straining her ears in the direction of the studio Lucy clenched her fists. She could hear nothing. Minutes passed. She ought to get up and go and see if they were all right, but she was too afraid.

‘It’s all right, Lucy. It’s over for now.’ She realised that Huw was standing beside her and she hadn’t heard anything he had said. ‘There is nothing there now. All is quiet and Maggie and I have surrounded the room with prayer, each in our own way.’ He smiled at her reassuringly. ‘Leave it now. Have you rung Robin to tell him what is happening?’

‘No.’ It was a whisper.

‘Would you like me to?’

She couldn’t believe she nodded. She felt like a frightened child.

Obediently she followed them down the staircase and climbed into Huw’s car. Maggie leaned in after her and kissed the top of her head. ‘Huw will drive you back home. I’ll go and pick up my car from the car park and follow you.’

Her bedroom at the vicarage was small and pretty and cosy. To her relief there had been no sign of the crated picture in the hall. They must have moved it somewhere and for the time being she didn’t even want to ask where it was. It seemed ironic that she had followed it here and that once more she was under the same roof as the cause of all her troubles. She dragged in her belongings and sat down on the bed with a sigh. No one knew where she was. Here she was safe. From Christopher, from Mike and Charlotte, and hopefully from her unwanted ghostly intruder as well. As though to confirm her situation the door opened and Roger strolled in. He gave her bags a cursory sniff and then jumped on the bed, circling three times before curling up on the pillow. Lucy smiled. Maggie, she was sure, would take this as a benison, three times a circle, a magic blessing and a sign that all was well.

Tony drove up the lane and parked in the farmyard right by the back door. He climbed out of his little Morris and walked straight into the kitchen. Rachel’s sewing basket lay on the table. There was no one about. He went through into the hall and stood at the bottom of the stairs, holding the newel post, looking up. ‘Rachel? Evie? Is there anyone there?’ For a moment he thought the place was empty, then he heard a door opening and the rattle of footsteps on the stairs.

‘Tony?’ It was Evie.

She hung over the banister on the landing above his head. ‘What are you doing here?’ she whispered.

‘I need to talk to you.’ He took the stairs two at a time and swept her into his arms. For a long moment she clung to him, her whole body melting against his, then she pushed him away. ‘You can’t stay. It’s not safe.’

‘What do you mean, it’s not safe?’

‘My parents might see you.’

‘I don’t care. I want to marry you, Evie. I’ve been thinking and I can’t let all this misunderstanding and delay go on. Let’s do it now. As soon as we can. We can get a special licence. My parents are wealthy people, Evie. If there is a need for money for the farm, they will help. They could pay Eddie off. Surely your father won’t forbid us if this is what you want? We’ll ask him to give you away. Ralph can be my best man.’ He put his hands on her shoulders and held her for a moment, looking into her eyes. ‘I love you, Evie. I want you to be my wife. Nothing has changed. I’ve wanted to marry you since the first time I set eyes on you.’

She was about to answer when a loud voice floated down from the landing above. ‘But she doesn’t want to marry you.’

Eddie walked slowly and deliberately down the stairs, coming to a stop only when he had reached them.

‘What were you doing up there?’ Tony stared at him in shock, his hands falling away from Evie’s shoulders. He looked at her. ‘Well, what were you both doing?’

Eddie smiled slowly. ‘What do you think we were doing?’

‘We were in my studio, looking at pictures,’ Evie said hotly. ‘What else?’ She thrust Tony away from her. ‘Stop it, both of you. I can’t cope with this!’

‘You heard her,’ Eddie said. ‘She wants you to go.’

Evie turned on him. ‘It is not for you to tell anyone to go, Eddie. I want you out of here as well. I want some peace to paint!’

‘And I want you to make some decisions,’ Eddie snapped back. ‘You need to get your priorities in place, Evelyn. Either you want a career as an artist or you don’t. It is time you made some choices. If you want to play with boys,’ he threw a sneering glance at Tony, ‘so be it, but don’t expect me to waste any more time on you or your work.’

Both men were silent for a moment. Eddie stepped forward. ‘After you.’ Grim-faced he gestured at Tony to go down.

Tony was clenching his fists. ‘I don’t think so. Not till I’ve finished my conversation with Evie.’

Eddie stepped forward, his jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed with hatred, reaching out as if he intended to punch Tony in the chest. Evie stepped between them but she was halted in her tracks by a shout from Rachel, who had appeared in the hall at the foot of the stairs.

‘What do you think you are doing?’ She was staring up in horror. ‘What is all the noise about? Your father’s in there, Evie,’ she pointed towards the kitchen, ‘and he is ill. He’s collapsed!’

Evie pushed between the two men and ran down towards her. Not waiting she elbowed her way past her mother and ran into the kitchen where Dudley was sitting at the table, his hand pressed to his chest. He was sweating profusely. Evie hardly noticed him. She ran past, on out into the yard.

Tony tore downstairs after her, not seeing Dudley at all, and only stopped when he reached his car. There was no sign of her. He gazed round. ‘Evie!’ he called. ‘Evie, darling, where are you?’

Eddie had not followed them; there was no sign of him.

Tony made his way towards the dairy and peered in. It was empty, as was the barn next to it. He stood in the yard and stared around in confusion. ‘Evie,’ he called again. ‘My darling, please. Where are you?’

There was no reply.

He waited for several minutes by the gate then dejectedly he went to the car and climbed in, sitting staring unmoving through the windscreen before climbing out again and bending forlornly to the starting handle.

Evie heard the engine fire up from the stable. Tears were pouring down her cheeks. Distraught, she put her arms round the neck of the old horse, who was stoically munching her hay, and sobbed into the animal’s sturdy neck as though her heart would break.

In the house Dudley took a deep breath and reached for his handkerchief, trying to stop his hands from shaking. It was Eddie who stood over him with soothing words and went to fetch a glass of water.

The painting, still in its crate, had been put in Huw’s little private chapel. ‘This is one of the spare rooms really,’ Maggie said with an indulgent smile, ‘the smallest, but he’s fixed it up beautifully. I come and sit in here sometimes, to think and pray.’ She pushed the door open and ushered Lucy in. Lucy and the portrait might be back under the same roof, but here, with Maggie and Huw to protect her, it didn’t seem to matter.

The altar was a small table in the corner with a cross standing on it and a sturdy candle much decorated with drops and whorls of melted wax. On the wall behind it there was a reproduction of Duccio’s
Madonna and Child with Angels
. There were two low chairs facing it, and leaning against the wall behind them, the crate. Lucy’s eyes went straight to it. She shivered.

‘It’s strange that such a personal thing, such a lovely thing in so many ways, can suddenly become so threatening.’

‘It’s not threatening in itself, Lucy. All we have to do is detach whatever – whoever – it is who is clinging to it.’ Maggie went and sat down on one of the chairs and after a moment’s hesitation Lucy sat beside her. Bright sunshine was pouring through the window and she could see the branches of the apple tree on the lawn moving gently in the breeze outside. The little room felt very peaceful and safe.

Lucy glanced sideways at Maggie. ‘I thought you didn’t believe in God.’

‘No, my dear. I believe in God, otherwise, as I told your friend Phil, I doubt if Huw and I could get on. It’s just the Church I find hard to stomach. Too much structure, too much concentration on good works. Too many meetings and rules. Don’t get me wrong, good works and meetings and rules are all good in their place but I think they can sometimes get in the way of the spiritual stuff. People forget that is what it is all about. So I worship out in the wind and rain and sunshine. My cathedral is under the trees.’ She grinned. ‘Sorry, does that shock you? It sounds very pagan, but Huw understands. I think sometimes he secretly agrees. And my way of worship allows me to believe in all things in heaven and earth like it says in the Creed. If I see a ghost it is part of the way things work. I don’t have to call for the deliverance men or wait for a psychiatrist, I trust my instincts. Ghosts are a natural part of the way things work. Roger the cat finds them natural just as robins and rabbits are natural.’ She smiled. ‘But things go wrong in nature. All is not peaceful all the time. I am not naïve. I can see that. Ralph Lucas has been trapped by some problem which is or was worrying him so much he has to try and resolve it on this earth and it is hard for us to communicate with him as he is working now from a different –’ she paused trying to choose the right word – ‘a different format, if you like.’

‘I saw him in his Spitfire,’ Lucy said after a moment. ‘After I met Charlotte at Rosebank Cottage I went to the airfield where Tony was stationed and I saw a Spitfire fly over very low. They said it couldn’t have been a Spitfire. There were none flying that day.’

‘But you feel it was Ralph?’

Lucy nodded. ‘Somehow I knew it wasn’t Tony.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m becoming obsessed with the family, aren’t I!’

‘Isn’t that part of the job of a biographer? Through Evie, you’ve formed a link with them.’

‘And the other entity?’ Lucy asked softly.

‘I don’t know. Maybe him too. He too has a problem. His is different, but only from our perspective. From his, it must be as urgent as Ralph’s.’ She sighed. ‘I’m not pretending this is all serendipity, Lucy. I know there is something potentially dangerous going on here and I’m not so conceited that I can be sure I can cope with it alone. I need Huw and his prayers. He is a powerful man with a strong connection – a hotline, if you like – to God. Prayer is good. It is powerful. I pray. And so should you.’ She looked at Lucy shrewdly. ‘God didn’t answer your prayers and bring back your husband, Lucy. That doesn’t mean God doesn’t exist, my dear. It means, almost certainly that your Larry has moved on. Not everyone is trapped here by sudden death. Sometimes, yes, but some souls have a clear vision –’

‘I loved him much more than he loved me,’ Lucy interrupted suddenly. ‘I am beginning to be more realistic and honest with myself now. He wasn’t sentimental. He would have thought “Lucy can cope”.’

Maggie was silent.

‘He would have looked forward, not back. You’re right.’ There were tears in Lucy’s eyes. Her mind was a turmoil of grief for Larry, fear for herself and a growing determination that she was not going to be beaten by all the problems which were being thrown at her.

Maggie squeezed her arm gently. ‘Your husband bequeathed you quite a challenge with the painting, my dear, and I think he is now confident that you can cope with it, so, what are you going to do next?’

They both turned to look at the crate.

Lucy took a deep breath. ‘I have to be able to go back to Westgate,’ she said after a moment. ‘I can’t let this bastard, whoever he is, ghost, or Christopher Marston, get the better of me.’ She gave a small grimace. ‘What with that and being chased out of Evie’s studio as well by Mike’s girlfriend I’m not doing very well at the moment. My confidence has taken a bit of a knock, to put it mildly. But this is something I have to face. I can’t leave it all to you and Huw. For my own peace of mind I have to get out and fight.’