Whispers (39 page)

Jess fretted about the girls walking to and from school in such appalling conditions but they simply took their umbrellas each day and assured her that they were fine. They were obviously enjoying their new independence. Simon worked whenever he could, but weather conditions ensured that some days he was unable to do anything. Jess sensed that he was concerned about money and she was proved to be right when he approached her one day after the postman had been and said tentatively, ‘Jess, I know it must seem as if I’m always holding my hand out nowadays but all the insurances are due this month. Both the cars, the house insurance and our life insurances.’ He looked terribly uncomfortable, and knowing what a proud man he was, Jess instantly felt sorry for him.

‘So,’ he went on, waving the letter that had just arrived in the air, ‘I was wondering if I could perhaps have another temporary loan? I know I haven’t paid back any of the rest of what I owe you yet, but I will as soon as I get back on my feet again.’

Seeing as the insurances were the only bills Simon ever paid now, Jess couldn’t see why he was making such a big thing of it, but all the same she told him, ‘Of course you can. How much do you need?’

‘Three thousand should do it.’

‘Three thousand pounds?’ she gasped incredulously.

He coloured slightly as he nodded. ‘Yes, three thousand. Do you have any idea at all, how much the insurance on this place is? It’s like a second bloody mortgage.’

‘All right, all right, of course you can have it,’ she said hastily, ‘I’ll write the cheques out so you can send them off today,’ and keen to avoid an argument she made an excuse to leave him to it and hurried away.

On the days when he was unable to work, Simon took to clearing out the attics. He had always intended to turn the large attic into an office but as yet he hadn’t tackled Martha’s room or any of the other smaller rooms on that landing. Jess was pleased about that. Somehow it didn’t seem right to touch the girl’s room.

Today, as soon as she had seen her daughters off to school, she went back to bed for half an hour. She had been up half the night with heartburn and smiled as she thought back to what her gran had used to tell her: ‘If a woman has heartburn during the last part of her pregnancy, it means that the baby will be born with a lot of hair.’ Her gran had been full of old wives’ tales and now as the birth approached, Jess missed her more than ever.

Settling herself comfortably back against the headboard, Jess took Martha’s journal from the drawer. She hadn’t touched it since learning of poor Miss Melody’s baby dying, but now she felt ready to read on and so she opened it to the next page.

5 January

Poor Master Leonard has been beside himself with grief and fear today, and has barely left Miss Melody’s side. Cook kept sending up treats to tempt him to eat, but they were all returned to the kitchen untouched. Miss Prim and Grace have been in there all day with her too, taking it in turns to sponge her with cool water and praying for her temperature to break.

‘I really think you should return to your cottage now, Mother Dickinson,’ Miss Prim told the old woman late that afternoon. ‘By your own admission there is nothing more that you can do. And now that the snow has stopped, Bertie could escort you home. He will then try to get into Nuneaton to fetch the doctor.’

‘I dare say yer right.’ Mother Dickinson rose wearily and rubbed her aching old back. She could never remember being so tired in her whole life and would be happy now to return to her own fireside and her cosy little cottage in Caldecote.

Master Leonard rose from his seat at the side of the bed and crossing to the old woman, he took both her hands in his. ‘May God bless you for what you’ve done for my wife,’ he told her sincerely.

She shrugged. ‘I just wish I could ’ave done more, sir,’ she mumbled.

Master Leonard then fumbled in the pocket of his creased breeches and withdrew a number of gold sovereigns as the old woman’s eyes almost popped out of her head.

‘Please take this as a sign of my appreciation.’

Her head wagged from side to side, setting her grey hair dancing about her head like snakes. During the vigil none of them had had time to wash or set a brush through their hair.

‘That’s too much,’ she protested.

He smiled sadly. ‘If anything, it is not enough – so take it, I beg you.’

She cautiously took the heavy coins in her hand and felt the weight of them before dropping them into the pocket of her old grey serge dress.

‘Thank yer kindly, sir.’ She lifted her shawl and Polly then led her from the room and they went in search of Bertie, whilst Leonard and Miss Prim turned their attentions back to the poor woman lying in the enormous brass bed.

Grace and Martha had retired to the kitchen to snatch a well-earned cup of tea with Bertie and Cook. Phoebe was there too, and once they had seen old Mother Dickinson and Bertie on their way they all returned to sit at the large scrubbed table.

‘Eeh, I still can’t take it in,’ Cook shook her head, setting her chins wobbling. ‘Only a matter o’ days ago we were all lookin’ forward to havin’ a couple o’ children runnin’ around the place. Now there’ll only be the one.’

‘Huh! There will be if Grace will slow up a bit,’ Martha remarked, then addressing her sister directly she pleaded, ‘Why don’t yer go an’ get some rest, Grace? There are more than enough of us to look after Miss Melody. Yer look dead on yer feet, an’ if yer don’t rest soon there’ll be two of youse we’re all lookin’ after.’

‘I’m fine,’ Grace assured her, although her back was aching alarmingly.

‘Right, well, I’d best go an’ get the slop bucket from Miss Melody’s room,’ Polly said, after draining her mug, and she walked wearily from the room. Polly usually skipped everywhere, but none of them had any energy left.

Whilst Polly was collecting the bucket Miss Prim slipped from the room to visit the latrine and it was as she was returning that she met Polly on the stairs. Polly suddenly slipped and the bucket clattered
down
the steps, spilling its contents. Before the girl knew what was happening, Miss Prim had boxed her soundly round the ears. For a moment it would have been hard to say who was the more shocked of the two of them, but Polly then burst into tears, closely followed by Miss Prim.

‘Oh, my dear girl, I am
so
sorry,’ the older woman sobbed. ‘I’m so tired I scarcely know what I am doing. Do forgive me!’

‘S’all right,’ Polly gulped, but somehow she couldn’t seem to stop the tears from flowing.

It was then that Grace, who was returning to Miss Melody’s room, reached them on the stairs, and nearby slipped.

‘Is everythin’ all right?’ she asked.

‘No, dear, everything is very
far
from all right,’ Miss Prim cried. ‘And I have the most fearful feeling that things will never be all right again. If only the doctor would come . . .’ She then lifted her skirts and ran back up the stairs.

Eeh, Grace thought, the world has gone mad. This has been such a happy house since the young Master and Mistress arrived. How quickly things could change, and now she wondered if it would ever be a happy house again as she comforted young Polly as best she could.

Jess closed the book with a large lump in her throat as she stared at the sketch of Martha hanging on the wall. To look at that, no one would have believed the heartache she had in store for her when Bertie had sketched it. The field she was in was covered in wild flowers, and although her face was not visible as she bent to pick them, because of the curtain of hair that covered it, Jess could somehow sense that she was smiling. Heaving herself off the bed, she left the journal on the duvet and slowly climbed the stair to the attics. At the end of the long landing leading to the largest storage room was a pile of trunks and old furniture that Simon had placed there. Lifting the lid of the first trunk, she began to sift through it, to check that these were the ones she wanted to dispose of. It was as she was sifting through the last one that her eyes grew round with interest as she saw a number of sheets of paper in the bottom. They were yet more of Bertie’s sketches – and Jess felt as if she had happened on buried treasure!

There was one of the house and another of an old lady chopping vegetables who Jess assumed must have been Granny Reid. And yet another of a younger woman with a sweet face – possibly Grace? And
then
Jess’s heart raced as she studied the final sketch. It appeared to be of the same girl as the one in the sketch she had hanging in the bedroom, but this time her face was visible. Somehow actually seeing her face made her seem all the more real. Trembling, she stumbled down the stairs clutching the sketch in her hand. She would show it to Laura. In no time at all she was heading down the drive and minutes later she barged into Laura’s cottage without knocking.

Laura was tackling a large pile of ironing and glanced up, startled. ‘Crikey, where’s the fire?’ she teased, then seeing Jess’s chalk-white face she pressed her down onto the nearest chair. ‘Whatever’s the matter?’ she asked. ‘You look as if you’ve just seen a ghost.’

‘I think I have,’ Jess said shakily, as she pushed the sketch towards Laura.

The woman studied it for a second and then let out a long breath. ‘Where did you get this?’

‘I just found it up in one of the trunks in the attic,’ Jess explained. ‘It’s made her feel more real, seeing her face like this.’

She fidgeted with the button on her cardigan. ‘Do you think it might be this girl Martha who is still in the house?’

Laura nodded. ‘I should imagine it’s her, yes. And if it is, that might explain why you felt drawn to the house when you first came to view it, and why she stayed behind, knowing that you would come to live there one day.’

But what was she trying to tell her? Jess thought. It was all very worrying and frustrating.

Laura stared at her solemnly. She must have wanted you to find her journal for a reason.’

Jess was obviously severely shaken. ‘So what shall I do now?’

‘Nothing,’ Laura advised her simply. ‘You just wait until Martha decides to reveal her purpose or her intentions. There’s nothing else you can do.’

‘It’s a bit nerve-wracking,’ Jess muttered as the button finally pinged off her cardigan and rolled across the floor. Beth instantly bent from her seat at the side of the fire and snatched it up, clutching it possessively in her hand as the two women looked towards her.

‘She’s not too good today,’ Laura murmured.

Jess could see that; the girl’s eyes were blank and staring as she rocked to and fro in her chair.

Poor soul, she thought. This pregnancy was an awful lot for her to endure. Beth had piled weight on and was still devouring everything
in
sight, to the point that the midwife was seriously concerned about her. As ever, Jess felt guilty about burdening Laura with her problems when she had enough on her plate, but she was still impressed with Laura’s knowledge of things that she herself didn’t understand.

Hoping to lighten the mood she asked, ‘And how are the family trees coming along? Have you managed to find time to work on them?’

‘Oh yes.’ Laura brightened instantly. ‘As soon as Beth goes to bed each night I’m straight onto the computer. I think it’s only that which is keeping me sane at the minute, and I finished yours last night. I managed to trace your family back as far as 1732. As soon as I get a chance I’ll print it all off for you – I think you’ll find it really interesting. One of your ancestors was actually a vicar and your family moved here originally from Wales.’

‘Really? I never knew that,’ Jess said. A sudden thought occurred to her and she asked, ‘Did you find any link with my ancestors to Stonebridge Hall?’

Laura shook her head. ‘Not a thing.’

‘Well, that’s
that
theory out of the window then.’ Jess grinned ruefully. ‘I thought you were going to tell me that my family had once owned the Hall or were servants there in times gone by. That would have explained a few things, wouldn’t it?’

‘I suppose it would, but as far as I can see there’s nothing to link you to the place at all.’

Feeling much calmer now, Jess stood up.

‘Thanks for the chat, Laura, but I think I’ve taken up more than enough of your time now, so I’ll be off.’

Crossing to Beth she pecked her cheek affectionately then set off up the drive towards the house. Finding the sketch had been a great shock to her, but now she was thinking more sensibly again, she realised that things were no different now from what they had been before. If Martha was there for a reason she would reveal what it was in her own good time. Once she entered the welcome warmth of her own kitchen she stood there for a few seconds letting the peace of the place wash over her as Alfie bounded out of his basket and came to greet her. And then, just as she had known they would, the whispers started up again. They were becoming louder and more urgent by the day, but all she could do was be patient until she discovered what it was they were trying to tell her.

That evening after dinner Jess slapped the sketch down on the table in front of Simon and asked him bluntly, ‘What do you think of that?’

He lifted it and studied it intently.

‘Who’s this?’ he asked.

‘I think it’s the girl whose journal I found. It was in one of the old trunks up in the attic.’

‘Really? She was a nice-looking girl, wasn’t she?’ he commented.

‘I’m more convinced than ever now that that girl – or at least her ghost – is still here in this house,’ Jess told him. ‘I also believe she is trying to tell me something.’

‘I reckon you should be an author with an imagination like that,’ Simon smirked.

Simon didn’t believe in God, ghosts, angels or anything that he could not see or touch, and Jess knew of old that nothing she said was going to change his mind now.

‘Think what you like,’ she sighed, ‘but I
know
she’s here.’

He patted her hand indulgently. ‘Of course you do, love. It’s quite normal for pregnant women to behave a little oddly. It’s something to do with the hormones.’

Biting down on her lip, Jess stamped off into the lounge where Jo was watching the television.