House of Echoes

  He looked up at her and gave her a jammy grin. ‘The tin man is cross,’ he said conversationally.

  ‘Oh Tom, I wish we could forget about the tin man,’ she said as she pulled her cup of tea, long cold, towards her. ‘Your mummy thinks he’s real, whereas we both know you made him up, don’t we. The tin man on the yellow brick road, looking for his heart.’

  Behind them Ned let out a gurgle of delight. He abandoned the brightly coloured bunch of plastic keys he had been playing with on the hearthrug and reached for the white flower which had appeared on the floor in front of him. One by one he began to pull at the petals. Tom was watching. ‘Ned’s made a mess,’ he said to Lyn.

  She glanced round and let out a cry of dismay. Falling on her knees she took the flower away from him and stared down at it. It was cold and wet, every petal perfect and unblemished. For a moment she stared down at it in her hands, then gathering up the scattered petals she threw it in the bin with a shudder. Behind her Ned began to cry.

  The house was in darkness. Pushing open the back door they peered into the kitchen. Luke groped for the light switch, clicking it up and down. Nothing happened.

  ‘There must have been another power cut.’ He groped his way towards the dresser. ‘There’s a torch here somewhere.’ He couldn’t find it and as he scrabbled for matches and candles Janet went back outside for the Maglite she kept in the glove compartment of the Audi. On the doorstep she took a deep breath of the cold evening air. The atmosphere in the house had been poisonous.

  None of them spoke as she handed the torch to David. Pushing open the kitchen door he peered out into the passage. He looked back at Luke and gave a faint grin. ‘Householder first?’

  Luke nodded. He was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. ‘Fair enough. Give me the torch.’ He pushed past him and led the way into the great hall. They stood still as Luke shone the beam round the room, up into the empty gallery, towards the fireplace, across the table and on towards the door in the far wall.

  ‘Where are they?’ Janet’s voice was tremulous.

  ‘They must be upstairs.’ Luke headed in that direction, closely followed by the others. ‘Why are all the lights out?’ Janet whispered. ‘I don’t like it.’

  ‘Neither do I.’ David sounded very grim. He stopped, as Luke headed up the stairs, staring at the cellar door. The key was in the lock. He frowned. ‘Luke,’ he called softly. His voice contained enough urgency for Luke to stop. He shone the torch back down the stairs.

  ‘The cellar.’ David pointed.

  ‘They’re down there?’ Luke could feel his stomach churning uncomfortably. ‘We’d better look.’ He stepped forward and put his hand on the key. It was unlocked. Pushing the door slowly open he peered down into the darkness. There was no sound at all.

  Jimbo was parked near the main gate in his old Cortina when he saw Luke and David drive back into the house. He had been sitting there, smoking, for some time, his fingers drumming on the wheel, torn between fear and curiosity as he thought of his sister alone in the house with Joss. Tossing the stub of the cigarette out of the car window he leaned forward and watched the tail lights of the Audi disappear between the laurels. There had been three people in the car. It was Mrs Goodyear driving, he was fairly sure. So Lyn was alone with the kids over at the farm. He sat for a minute deep in thought, feeling the chill of the evening air on his face from the open car window. At last he came to a decision. Winding up the window he reached for the ignition key and gunned the engine into life. There was no harm in checking that Lyn was all right – her and the boys. If she was there on her own, maybe she could do with some company. She wasn’t that bad, Lyn, when he came to think about it. In fact, he grinned sheepishly to himself as he changed gear and pulled out into the lane, he could quite fancy her, if he thought about it.

  On the road behind him his cigarette butt flared for a minute on the wet tarmac and then went out with a hiss.

  Joss and Natalie were standing near the hole in the wall where they had found the wax figures when the lights went out.

  Clinging together they stared round in the darkness their eyes and ears straining against a thick impenetrable blackness which seemed to wrap itself around them.

  ‘The torch,’ Natalie whispered. ‘Where’s the torch?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Matches?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Shit!’ She put an experimental hand out in front of her, half expecting to meet something or someone, but the darkness was empty.

  ‘Has she done it on purpose?’ Joss moved closer to her companion.

  ‘I don’t know. What we need to do is get out of here, mend the fuse, or get a torch and candles or a floodlight or something and then come back.’ She took a cautious step backwards, one hand linked to Joss’s, one held out in front as she slowly turned back to where she thought the arch through to the first cellar was.

  Joss followed her. ‘It’s this way. It must be. We left the door open at the top of the stairs. There’ll be some sort of light.’

  The movement of air behind them was so slight Joss thought she had imagined it. She stopped, her fingers digging into Natalie’s arm, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling.

  Natalie stopped too. Neither of them said anything; they were both listening hard.

  Slowly Joss turned round. In the far corner of the cellar she could see something moving against the blackness. Her throat tightened; she could hardly breathe.

  ‘Be strong,’ Natalie murmured. ‘We have to win.’

  Joss was very conscious of the huge old house above them empty, listening as they were to the silence. Panic swept over her, drenching her in cold sweat. For a moment she was sure that her legs were going to collapse under her, then she felt the steady pressure of Natalie’s hand on her arm. ‘Deep breaths. Arm yourself with the light – visualise it all round you, fill the cellar with it,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t let her see you’re afraid.’

  Her?

  She could see it too now: the faintest outline of a woman’s shape glowing like dim phosphorescence against the wall …

  It was my Lady Kath- er- ine

  The words echoed faintly in the back of her skull, a child’s song, the song of a little boy, lost in the shadows of time.

  ‘Katherine?’ She found her voice suddenly. ‘Katherine, you have to leave this house. You have done enough here. Enough people have paid for your pain. Don’t let it go on.’

  She waited, half hoping for an answer in the silence.

  ‘You need to move on into the light, into happiness,’ she went on. Her voice had begun to shake.

  ‘We can help you, Katherine,’ Natalie put in. Her words were clear and strong. ‘We’re not here to banish you to hell. We can help give you strength to move on. Please, let us help you.’ Her eyes were closed; inside her head she could see her clearly, not a mad witch but a girl, scarcely more than a child, crazed with pain and grief, cheated of life by the greed and ambition of the mother she hated, killed by the child she never wanted.

  ‘Don’t hurt any more children, Katherine. They are not to blame,’ she went on softly. ‘Their fear and agony can’t help you – it adds to your own. Please let us give you our blessings. Let our love and strength help you.’

  She took a cautious step nearer the corner of the cellar, her eyes still closed. It was Joss who was watching. The glowing outline of the figure had grown stronger. It had a shape now, clearly a slim, not very tall girl.

  ‘Are you buried down here, Katherine? Is this where you lie?’ Natalie had dropped Joss’s hand and held her own out towards the spot where she sensed the girl was standing. ‘Shall we move you? Would you like to be buried outside in the garden somewhere? Or in the churchyard?’

  They both felt the frisson, the cold shiver in the air.

  ‘In the garden here, then. Under the sun and in the moonlight,’ Natalie went on. ‘We can do that for you, Katherine. Just show us where they buried you.’

  Ther
e was a long breathless silence. It is not going to work, thought Joss. She is not going to tell us. The atmosphere was stifling. There seemed to be no air in the cellar. It had been growing steadily colder but now she felt a wave of heat roll over her. She put her hand to the collar of her sweater and ran her finger round under it, feeling her perspiration like ice.

  ‘Where is it, Katherine?’ Natalie went on. ‘You must give us a sign. You must show us what you want.’

  It was my Lady Kath- er- ine

  Georgie’s voice reached Joss’s ears very faintly.

  It was my Lady Kath- er- ine

  Something dropped in the silence. It rattled on the ground like a pebble. The noise came again, then nothing more.

  In the corner of the cellar the light slowly faded; in seconds it was gone.

  Neither of them moved. Joss put her hand out to Natalie. ‘Has she gone?’ she whispered at last.

  ‘She’s gone.’

  Natalie spun round; behind them they could suddenly hear the sound of voices. The squeak of the cellar door opening was followed by a flash of torch light.

  ‘Joss? Natalie?’ It was Luke’s voice.

  With the help of a torch they found Katherine’s sign, unmistakable on the cellar floor. A scattering of small bricks and stones lay in the shape of an equal-armed cross on one of the old flagstones in the corner. They stood in a ring looking down at it.

  ‘What do we do?’ Luke was holding the big torch, focusing the beam steadily on it. His scepticism had dissolved.

  ‘We have to keep our promise. We have to dig her up and rebury her in the garden.’ Joss was very firm.

  ‘What about coroners and things?’

  ‘What about them?’ She put her hands on his shoulders. ‘Luke, this is Belheddon’s business. No one else’s. Katherine belongs here. She doesn’t want to be buried in the church or in the churchyard. She wants to be buried in the garden. Quietly. With our blessing and love.’

  ‘This is the woman who murdered your brothers, Joss.’

  ‘I know.’ Joss took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice. ‘She’s so unhappy, Luke. She’s lost. I don’t believe she was really evil. She was in too much pain to know what she was doing. I think we can help her – and make Belheddon safe for children. Our children.’

  He shrugged. ‘OK. Let’s go for it. I’ll get a pick.’

  They mended the fuses first and it was in a cellar full of light that they met again, half an hour later with pick-axe and shovel.

  ‘You realise this whole thing could be a waste of time.’ Luke gazed round them. He was feeling stronger now that the cellar was lit. ‘We are digging on a flash of intuition and the word of a ghost, who might or might not be imaginary.’

  Joss smiled tolerantly. ‘We’re never really going to convince you, are we. Just dig.’

  ‘OK.’ He shrugged. Lifting the pick he inserted the point under the edge of the flag and began to try to lever it up. Taking turns in the cramped space David and Luke managed to lift four flags, then stood back exhausted. Janet had at some point left the cellar where Joss and Natalie stood, eyes riveted to the floor, and reappeared with a jug of Lyn’s home-made lemonade and some glasses.

  ‘Come on, rest for a moment,’ she said, setting the tray on the ground. They stood in a circle, looking down as they drank, staring at the sandy earth, aware of the acute silence around them.

  It was Luke who put down his glass first. He had barely touched his drink. ‘Come on. Let’s get it over.’ He picked up the spade and drove it into the soil.

  ‘Gently, Luke. We don’t know if there’s a coffin.’ Joss put her hand on his shoulder. He straightened and looked at her for a moment, then he nodded.

  ‘Right. Gently does it.’

  An hour later they had found nothing. A hole about three feet deep and as much across opened at their feet.

  ‘There’s nothing here.’ Luke put down the spade and reached for his glass.

  ‘There is. I’m sorry, Luke, but you have to go on.’

  ‘It could be six feet down, I suppose.’ David looked exhausted. There was a smear of earth across his face.

  ‘Perhaps you could ask her, Natalie?’ Janet was sitting on an old wine crate. ‘See if we’re on the right track.’

  Natalie stepped forward. ‘Katherine?’ she called. ‘Katherine, you see. We’re trying to help you, but we must know, is this the right place?’

  They all waited in silence. Joss was staring at the cavity in the wall where they had found the wax figures. Natalie’s eyes were fixed on the hole where the spade stood alone, shoved into the soil as Luke stood back to pick up his drink.

  ‘She’s got tired and gone off to bed. And I think that’s what I’m going to do as well.’

  ‘No. No, wait. Let’s try for just a while longer, please.’ Joss dropped to her haunches and picked up the trowel. She dug it into the earth and heard the small chink of metal. The sound electrified the others. They turned. Luke moved closer and knelt beside her. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Here.’ Joss lifted the trowel full of soil and ran it through her fingers. Left lying in her palm was a small gold ring.

  Joss took a deep breath. ‘It’s her message.’

  Luke nodded. He caught her eye and gave a rueful, private smile. He dug more carefully this time, inserting the spade almost gently, transferring the lifted earth to the steadily growing pile on the floor behind them.

  They found the body at about a metre depth. There was no coffin; there were no clothes; no flesh now, just the bones, lying on a floor of earth much harder than the soft friable soil which had lain on top of them. Using the trowel Luke lifted away as much of the earth as he could without touching the bones and they stood looking down at the skeleton before them. There were two other rings on the finger bones and a gold chain around the neck, an earth-encrusted enamelled pendant lying amongst the narrow, fragile ribs.

  It was my Lady Katherine

  Joss knelt down. Her eyes had filled with tears. ‘Poor girl. She was so small.’

  ‘How are we going to move her?’ David put his hand on Joss’s shoulder.

  She shrugged. The face she raised to him and Luke was white and strained. ‘First we must dig the new grave.’

  ‘Tonight?’

  Joss nodded. ‘Tonight. While it’s dark. Then the sun can warm her in the morning.’

  Natalie offered to stay with the bones; it seemed somehow indecent to leave them alone now they were exposed. The others went out into the garden with torches. Joss had already chosen the spot in her mind. It was perfect: out beyond the lake, where the wild roses tangled over the old pergola and the sun dial registered the passing of the hours.

  They dug the hole in the old rose bed, the earth soft and cold under the clogging November mist which had closed over the garden as the wind dropped and the rain petered away.

  Joss emptied the carved cedar box from the study which contained piles of old sheet music. She lined it with her own fringed scarf of rough wild silk and then on her knees lifted the skull from the earth as the others watched. The rest of the bones she picked from the soil and put them reverently into the box and with them the rings and chain and pendant, then last of all the wax dolls, still wrapped in their blue scarf from the dresser drawer, then she closed the lid at last.

  Luke picked up the box and carried it slowly up the stairs.

  The garden was dank and cold as they walked after him across the wet grass and under the pergola to the little grave. Puffing he set the box down beside it. ‘Are you going to say something?’

  Joss stood staring down. ‘I don’t know what to say. I don’t think she wants our prayers.’

  ‘She wants peace, Joss. Peace and forgiveness,’ Natalie murmured quietly. ‘Then all the other spirits here can rest too; the lost boys from all the centuries and their fathers, the poor men she cursed and hounded to their deaths in her pain and hatred.’

  ‘And the king.’ Joss met her eye. ‘What about the king?’

/>   ‘I think you’ll find he’s already gone, Joss. You were very special to him, remember.’ She smiled. She would never, Joss knew, reveal what they had talked about with Edward of England, the sun of York, who, had he been a man, would have fathered Joss’s unborn child and who might have been her father, and her mother’s father, and her grandmother’s father before that, and who was, with Katherine de Vere, her ancestor by blood and true descent.

  ‘I wish the moon was out.’ Joss looked down into the blackness of the hole.

  ‘It will be, look.’ Janet had been the only one looking up at the sky. Behind the mist the full moon was a wraith high up above the wrack. As they watched it found a gap in the drifting cloud and for a moment shone down into the garden.

  David and Luke between them lowered the box into the ground and Joss and then Natalie each threw down a handful of soil. For a minute they waited as the moonlight ran light fingers over the carved wood then as the mist returned like a veil across the garden David lifted the spade. As the first shovel full of earth poured down into the grave they all saw the spray of white roses as the darkness returned.

  It was my Lady Katherine

  Muffled in the mist the voice seemed to drift across the lake.

  It was my Lady Katherine

  It was my Lady Katherine

  Each time the voice was further away.

  They looked at each other.

  ‘I shall miss them.’ Joss smiled.

  Natalie shook her head. ‘Rascals,’ she said. ‘Let them join their mum. The only children at Belheddon should be real children.’

  ‘It’s done, Joss.’ David had patted down the last of the earth with the back of the spade. ‘Are you going to put something here to mark it?’

  Joss shook her head slowly. ‘I don’t know. Perhaps.’ She gave a deep sigh. ‘I just can’t believe that it’s really over. That there’s no more danger.’