Sara Foster - Beneath the Shadows

Grace had been caught completely off-guard. As Meredith held her gaze, she wondered if these meals had been nothing more than buttering her up. She’d thought that Meredith was being friendly, but perhaps there had always been more to it.

‘Why would you want to do that?’ she asked.

‘Well, I’d like to sell this place eventually. None of my girls want to live here, and it’ll be too big for me to manage on my own as I get older. I’d enjoy a bit of travelling with the extra money, but I’ve lived in this village all my life – I want to stay put. Hawthorn Cottage would be just right for me. I could sublet it until I’m ready to move in myself.’

This seemed an entirely reasonable explanation, but Grace still didn’t want to be rushed into any promises she might regret. ‘I appreciate the offer, but I’m not sure what I want to do yet…’ she said. ‘Let me think about it.’

There was an awkward lull in conversation, as Meredith got up without a word and began collecting their plates. She disappeared through to the kitchen, and Grace waited uneasily for her to come back. A moment later, Meredith returned with a large bowl of trifle. She sat down and began to ladle a portion into a bowl, her spoon repeatedly striking the china with a harsh clang. ‘I’m sorry, Grace, I didn’t mean to put you in a difficult position. Perhaps I shouldn’t have brought it up. I had imagined you wouldn’t want to stay around – I thought I might be doing you a favour… maybe I presumed a bit too much. But think about what I’ve said, won’t you, and let me know if you’d like to discuss it further.’

‘Thank you,’ Grace replied, accepting the bowl of dessert that Meredith held out to her. ‘You took me by surprise, but I’ll certainly consider it.’

‘Right, then.’ Meredith was all brisk and businesslike now. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’

As they finished their meal, Meredith’s interest in Hawthorn Cottage hung in the air between them. Grace felt wrong-footed, all too aware that she was alone in this big old house with only this austere woman and a resident ghost for company. Meanwhile, Meredith kept up a steady stream of conversation about local concerns: the extension of the railway line, the ridiculous price of oil heating, her fight with the council to get the one streetlight in the village working again. Grace half-listened as she turned Meredith’s words over in her mind.

Millie had been set down from her high chair, and for a time she sat on the floor playing with her toys contentedly, but as the evening drew on she began to cling to her mother’s legs more and more, yawning and grizzling.

‘I think I should get her to bed soon.’ Grace set down her empty cup. ‘Can I help you clear up?’

‘No need,’ Meredith said. ‘It was nice to have the company.’

Grace collected the toys together and lifted Millie onto her hip. She felt she should reciprocate Meredith’s generosity with a meal invitation, but her culinary skills were nowhere near as good, and anyway the kitchen was out of action at the moment.

Meredith showed them to the door and held out a hand. ‘Thank you for coming, Grace. And remember to consider my offer, won’t you?’

‘I will,’ Grace assured her. She walked to the car, put Millie in her seat and clicked the buckles together, then had to spray the windscreen with de-icer before she could start the engine. While she did all this, Meredith stood motionless in the doorway, her body backlit by the lights behind her so that all Grace could see was her silhouette. As Grace began to reverse, she waved, but Meredith didn’t move before they drove out of sight.

On Saturday morning, Ben arrived at the front door, toolbox in hand, to clear up the final debris from knocking down the wall. The last couple of days had been difficult for Grace – Millie wasn’t napping well and so she had got little done. She was glad to have made a start on the work, but now looked forward to the break for Christmas. Besides, she missed the kitchen. She’d eaten packet noodles for two nights in a row, and was desperate to cook herself a meal.

Meredith’s offer kept running through her mind, although she had made it without knowing of the renovations underway. Perhaps it wouldn’t stand now anyway. But what if it did? In that case, did Grace really need to be here, resurrecting the past?

She had had a restless night last night. No demonic dogs had appeared to her, but instead, she had dreamed of Adam. He was trying to tell her something, his face frantic, sometimes with worry, sometimes with fear. He looked to be shouting the words, but there was only silence. At one stage he had raised his arms and Grace had seen that he was behind thick glass as he banged his hands on it, over and over.

She had woken numb with cold, to a darkness so absolute that she couldn’t see her fingers held an inch from her face. For a moment it felt as though she no longer existed at all. Shaking, she fumbled frantically for the bedside light switch. The room lit up. Everything in place, at rest.

She had taken long, deep breaths, and when she felt calmer had picked up Rebecca. Soon she was engrossed, getting through almost a hundred pages before she fell asleep again. In her dreams, for a while she lay among bluebells, with a cocker spaniel running through the meadow. But then she was no longer amid flowers but on bare brown earth, and she had scrambled up to see Meredith’s schoolhouse towering above her, windows blazing with light. Shivering uncontrollably from the freezing night air, she rushed towards the brightness and warmth, peeping through a large window to find a dance taking place – couples whirling, a blur of colour – and while she stood there, a woman to one side in a white dress, hat in hand, turned slowly towards the window, caught Grace’s eye, and her mouth opened in the stretched O of a scream.

Grace had woken up sweating this time, still clasping the book. She had thrown it onto the floor and scrambled out of bed, swatting at lights and going to splash water on her face. She had registered herself in the mirror, but looked away before she could catch her own reflected eye.

‘Grace? Grace? Are you all right?’

Ben was speaking to her, his voice drawing her from her distraction. He put down his toolbox and reached out, gently touching her hand. Grace looked at him, and they were still for a second, their eyes locked, before Ben dropped his hand and picked up his toolbox again, waiting expectantly.

It took Grace a moment longer to recover. She took a breath. ‘Yes, of course. Come on in,’ she said, and made way for him.

Half an hour later, Grace heard the crunch of gravel as she was tidying upstairs while Millie napped. She peered out of the window and saw Annabel climbing from her car, no doubting the city girl from her sparkling knit top and jeans teamed with knee-high boots. Ben was downstairs somewhere, pottering about clearing up and doing some preliminary work on the fireplace. She ran down to the front door to make introductions, and got there in time to see Annabel stop halfway along the path, dragging an enormous suitcase, her mouth dropping as Ben opened the door ahead of Grace, carrying a bag of rubbish.

‘Annabel, this is Ben…’ Grace said behind him.

Annabel glanced towards her sister, her face full of wry amusement.

‘He’s helping with the renovations, remember?’

‘Ah.’ Annabel grinned. ‘I do remember, Grace,’ she said, looking at Ben and offering him her hand. ‘It’s very nice to meet you.’

Annabel’s flirtations were never subtle, and Grace watched on with resignation as Ben took hold of her slender fingers. ‘Same here.’ He smiled civilly. ‘Would you like me to take that for you?’ He motioned towards her case.