Sara Foster - Beneath the Shadows

However, if there was anything in the cottage containing more information about why Adam might have disappeared, then she was getting down to the last few places to look. The suggestion that these boxes might reveal something important gave her a renewed sense of purpose.

‘If I take these upstairs, can you two entertain Millie for a while?’ she asked them.

‘Anything if it keeps me away from those damn boxes,’ Annabel replied, while James added, ‘Sure.’

When Grace got into her room, she lifted the boxes one by one and tipped their contents onto the bedcovers, knowing that if she had to clear them away before she could go to sleep tonight it would make her work faster. She climbed up to sit amid the chaotic mountain of papers, and began rifling through. Anything she wasn’t interested in got tossed back into an empty crate, and she began to stack the rest in piles by her bedside, next to her neglected copy of Rebecca .

Her spirits sank as the collection of papers she wanted to look at more closely grew larger. Bundles of letters, mainly, or notepads that had been scribbled in. Bank statements that she didn’t feel she could throw away without checking. Old greeting cards. Photos – both in albums and loose. A couple of school yearbooks that might well contain something about Adam. As she was going through them, it became clear that at least one of the boxes had contained Rachel’s effects. It made her think of Connie and Bill facing the same task, whittling down their daughter’s belongings to retain the official documents that proved her existence, and the photos and letters that could help them recapture Rachel, even if only for a moment, as her image or words briefly fleshed out the spectre of her from the confines of memory. For all Grace knew, so many other things she had touched in the past few weeks had secrets of their own to tell, but they had died along with their keepers. All Grace could do was unwittingly dispose of the evidence.

She picked up a bundle of letters. They were written in the same handwriting, and she plucked one from the top and opened it. Without knowing the contents she couldn’t determine their value, but she still felt as though she were snooping.

Dear Mum and Dad,

I hope you are both all right. I know you will still be getting over the shock, but please, please keep writing and telling me your news. I am doing fine in York. I’ve found a flat, and there’s plenty of space for the baby, who is kicking me all the time now – it’s a strong little thing, that’s for sure.

When you see Meredith, please could you tell her that I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye. I’ve included a letter for you to pass on to her. I miss you all very much. I know it’s hard, but I’m sure I am doing the right thing. Why don’t you come and see us when the baby arrives?

All my love,

Rachel

Grace plucked the next one from the pile.

Dear Mum and Dad,

It’s good to hear that they have fixed the road – it’s hard enough driving up the bank without potholes to avoid! I’m glad to hear that the show went well too, Mum, I’m sure you did a brilliant job of organising it.

The whole city is talking about the Viking house found under the old Craven’s factory. We went for a walk over there yesterday, but there’s not much to see at the site. Plenty of people trying to have a look, mind.

Thanks for the money, but please don’t feel you have to keep sending it – I’m doing fine on social security, and I have earned a bit more doing some casual typing work – finally, all those hours practising are paying off. It’s good work, because I can do it when Adam sleeps. I’m lucky that at the moment he’s a good sleeper in the day, though he keeps me up all night long sometimes! I can’t wait for you to meet him – come and see us soon.

All my love,

Rachel

Grace stared out of the bedroom window at the wintry afternoon twilight. From the letters, it sounded as though Connie and Bill had been trying to support their daughter, however upset they must have been when she had run away pregnant. It was strange, seeing Rachel’s handwriting; trying to imagine her in a tiny flat in York, caring for a new baby while working to make ends meet. In her mind, Grace had conjured Rachel up so vividly that she felt a strong bond with Adam’s mother. However, these letters were reminders that she didn’t really know anything about the flesh-and-blood person who had written them and worn the clothes that Grace and Annabel had danced in.

She glanced at a few more pages to find that they contained similar themes. She would have to go through them one at a time, but it could probably wait. It seemed unlikely that Jonny’s name was going to come up. Grace wasn’t even sure how much Adam’s grandparents had known of the boy who had got their daughter into trouble, but presumably since Jonny had emigrated there wasn’t a lot left to say, and everyone would have had no choice but to move on.

She sat for a while, considering what to do next. If she didn’t uncover any evidence of Jonny among these papers, she was going to have to look at other options. She could try to call the library tomorrow, but suspected it would be closed for the Christmas holiday.

Deep in thought, she went down the stairs and discovered Millie holding a biscuit in each hand, a half-empty packet on the table. ‘She won’t eat her dinner now!’ Grace said jokingly as she stroked Millie’s hair.

‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t think of that.’ Annabel put the packet on one side. ‘Listen, I was wondering about going to see Meredith while we’re snowed in. If I give her a call, maybe James can dig me up as far as the schoolhouse so I can interview her. What do you reckon?’

‘Er, excuse me – I don’t know about that,’ James interrupted. ‘Have you seen how high the snow is?’

‘It’ll be better in the morning,’ Annabel replied confidently.

‘Fine by me,’ Grace said. ‘In fact, I might come with you.’ A new awareness reinvigorated her. There was another way to find out more about Jonny, after all. It was Meredith who had been able to tell her the most about him so far. Perhaps if Grace pressed her further she might remember more. Grace couldn’t help but feel that locating Jonny was pivotal – that if she found him, she would find answers.

As her mind slowed, she became aware of the room again, and noticed that they were accompanied by a steady ticking.

‘Did you fix the clock?’ She looked at James.

He appeared confused. ‘No, I forgot all about it.’

Grace turned to Annabel, who shook her head. She stiffened, then walked out into the hallway.

The pendulum was swinging steadily back and forth. Grace’s head began to throb. ‘When did it start again?’ she asked as she came back into the lounge.

Annabel shrugged and James said, ‘I didn’t notice, sorry.’

Grace glanced at her watch, and frowned. ‘It’s telling the right time.’

‘Perhaps it hadn’t stopped after all,’ James suggested.

‘You do remember it stopping, don’t you?’ Grace pressed him.

‘Yeah, I think so.’ But he didn’t look sure.

‘Think, James – do you or don’t you?’

She saw James exchange a look with Annabel, before he answered, ‘Don’t worry, Grace, I remember.’

Grace held the phone to her ear, irritated that she’d been placed on hold for over five minutes now. She was about to give up when a voice said, ‘I’m sorry, Constable Barton is on holiday until New Year. Unless it’s an emergency…?’