Sara Foster - Beneath the Shadows

‘That would be great, I’ll help you in a sec.’ He glanced once more at the papers in front of him. ‘I hope you don’t mind – these were lying here, so I was taking a look at your plans.’

‘Of course I don’t mind.’ Grace sat down opposite him. ‘So, what do you think?’

‘It’s a really good idea. But it could be a lot of work. Are you all right out here, really? Because this might take quite a while.’

‘I’ll be okay. Besides, I’ve got Ben helping me out, so hopefully that will speed things up.’

‘Ah, yes. Ben.’ James put the papers down. ‘Tell me about Annabel’s hottie – has she seduced him yet?’

Grace ignored the unease she felt at the question. ‘I doubt it. He’s very reserved. He’s been a godsend to me, though, as I was worried it would take weeks for me to find someone to work on the cottage. Although Annabel has been monopolising him a bit of late, for her “story”.’ Grace made speech marks in the air and James chuckled. ‘They’ve been roving all over the moors with him telling her spooky tales. But that’s all, I think.’

‘How romantic,’ James commented dryly. ‘Trust Annabel.’

‘Trust Annabel what?’ said the woman herself, appearing at the door.

‘I was admiring your dedication to getting a good story,’ James laughed, then spluttered on his coffee as Annabel clipped his head with her hand as she went past. ‘Ow.’

‘You deserved it.’

‘So, what’s the plan for today then?’ James asked. ‘There appear to be all sorts of exciting possibilities around here.’ He got up and gestured out at the white sky and the bare expanse of the moors, now pockmarked with last night’s melting snow.

‘You’re as bad as Annabel!’ Grace went across to the worktop and poured her sister a drink. ‘Tell you what, let’s go for a walk while the weather holds, see if we can get you two city slickers to actually enjoy a bit of fresh air.’

‘Whatever,’ Annabel murmured, leafing through a magazine as she accepted the mug Grace handed to her.

James winked at Grace. ‘Good plan.’ She smiled back at him, but faltered for a moment at the expression in his eyes before he looked away.

As Grace strapped Millie into her pushchair, she listened to Annabel and James on the doorstep, both complaining about being outside in the bitter cold.

‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’ Annabel asked doubtfully, rubbing her arms with her gloved hands.

‘It’s only a walk, Annabel, it won’t kill you,’ Grace retorted, surprising herself. In London, she had regularly grumbled about the distances between bus, tube and destination, but now she found herself looking forward to these long countryside rambles. ‘Come on.’ She pushed Millie’s pushchair towards the gate, the others falling in step behind her.

To reach the moorland path, they headed up the steep road past the other cottages. ‘Who lives in these places?’ James asked, breaking the hush of the frosty morning.

Grace looked across at the row of cottages as she replied. ‘Emma and Carl are next door to me. They’re lovely. Apparently an old man called Feathery Jack lives in that one -’ she pointed to the cottage with smoke rising from the chimney, ‘but he’s reclusive by all accounts. I’ve never seen him. And Ben lives in the house at the top.’ She motioned towards the redbrick dwelling standing incongruously beside its stone neighbours.

‘Feathery Jack?’ Annabel repeated. ‘What’s that about?’

‘He keeps birds, apparently – owls.’

‘That’s actually pretty cool,’ James said.

Annabel raised an eyebrow at him.

They continued walking in silence, following the tarmacked road to the summit, leaving the houses behind. At the top, they turned down a path marked only by flattened grass and occasional groups of uneven stones. They made their way along until they reached another peak, and as they crested the hill the moors spread out before them.

‘There’s not a lot of green about, is there,’ James said.

‘That’s because it’s winter,’ Grace snapped, lifting Millie out of her pushchair and hoisting her onto her shoulders so she could take in the view. ‘Here,’ she instructed the others, ‘before you both start gabbling away, shut up for a moment and look at this place, will you, and breathe it in. It might be deserted, but it’s absolutely pristine.’

Annabel glanced across at Grace and tutted, but then did as requested. James turned obediently, but with his arms folded as though he doubted he’d be impressed. Grace surveyed the desolate expanse, mottled with melting snow, wondering why she’d felt so defensive when James had spoken. There was something beautiful about this place, she thought – in daylight, the raw, untouched vista had the power to stop your mind for a moment. Here, you didn’t have to look up to see the sky, it came right down and met you, ever-present beyond the ceaseless shifting of colour, clouds and light.

Briefly, the void inside her was filled with something close to peace. She remembered standing in a similar spot with Adam, holding hands, their tiny daughter in a sling against her chest. She recalled the sense of belonging she had felt; the contentment in Adam’s face. Even though he wasn’t here, this place linked them. So should she indulge her occasional crazy notions about staying here and trying to carve out a life for herself once the cottage was renovated? Of course not, she told herself hastily. She was a city girl. But she was all too aware that she had never known London as a single mother, and she wasn’t daft enough to think it would be the same for her now.

So what choices did she have? She sighed. Nothing much was clear to her at the moment. Nothing except Millie’s mittened hands clutching her mother’s ponytail. When she looked at her daughter she felt a resolve of purpose beyond herself, and at present that was enough to keep her going when everything else seemed so uncertain.

She let her thoughts drift away, coming back to her surroundings. The chilly air filled her nostrils, fresh and slightly sweet. As she breathed in, a gust of cold wind nipped at her face, setting her teeth on edge.

‘It is beautiful, in a rugged, remote sort of way,’ Annabel said, breaking the spell. ‘But still, you shouldn’t hide out here for too long, Grace…’

Grace felt stung by the remark. ‘I’m not hiding, Annabel. I’m doing what needs to be done.’

Annabel and James caught each other’s eyes, and Grace had to breathe deeply to stop herself yelling at them. She put Millie back in her pushchair, then barked, ‘This way,’ and walked off without checking to see if they were coming with her.

No one spoke as they followed the rough stone path, the fresh, clean air rolling over the hills and bursting into their faces. The wind was a puppeteer, bending the trees to its will and making the dead leaves and twigs dance and scuttle along the ground away from them. Grace tried to concentrate on pushing Millie along the rocky path, but her mind insisted on drifting back to what Annabel had just said. Was she hiding? Was that really why she had come back?

She attempted to distract herself, watching a flock of fieldfares dart overhead, and Millie shrieked with delight as they spooked a grouse into noisy flight. But for the most part there was nothing except a glorious expanse of nature at its barest, and for Grace the solitude and silence were settling. Out here she didn’t feel so lost, or overwhelmed, or alone.

They reached a patch of open ground with a cluster of large flat boulders, which overlooked the train line that followed the curves of the valley. As they slowed, Annabel cried, ‘Oh my god, that’s Lover’s Leap.’ She pointed to a place a little further on, where the rail track crossed a steel bridge suspended above a small gorge, partially hidden from view. ‘I read about it in your book, Grace, and Ben mentioned it as well. It’s probably the most haunted place in the area. People have been going over the edge since time began, apparently – usually because of unrequited love.’