Sara Foster - Beneath the Shadows

Where did this new information leave her search for Adam’s father? She’d never thought about it before, but she only really had Liza’s word that Jonny was relevant anyway. She tried to think back. She could still picture Liza’s face on the steps of Freeborough Hall. She had seemed so earnest. Why would she lie?

She would lie if Jenny asked her to. She would lie if Adam’s disappearance involved her sister. Perhaps they all would. Had Grace experienced any genuine friendliness or hospitality from them since she’d been here, or was it all an elaborate subterfuge to get her to leave? Perhaps Ben was involved too – passing information along from inside Hawthorn Cottage, keeping them posted on what she was up to.

As her theories grew more and more elaborate, Grace felt as though she was losing her grip on reality. She looked at her half-full glass and went across and poured it down the sink. Then she took herself upstairs to bed.

As her foot touched the top step, the clock began to chime three.

And then it stopped.

She couldn’t even summon the energy to be frightened. In fact, she felt fury coursing through her instead – at everything and everyone who had led her to this point.

She flung open her bedroom door, and halted. Finally, fear got sharp teeth into her, and instantly clamped down.

On her pillow was Ghosts of the Moors . Connie’s book. Grace knew, without a doubt, that she had packed it ready to leave, but now it lay spread open, face down, as though she had paused in reading it.

She picked it up. It was open at a page she recognised.

The black barghest.

A fearsome hound with razor-sharp teeth and claws. Seen shortly before the death of a local.

She flung it across the room. Then she took her duvet, went through and lay down on the floor next to Millie’s cot, trembling, her mind tumbling over and over, not daring to close her eyes even though she wanted to, her ears straining for any hint of movement close by.

As light began to spread over the moors, Grace crept around the cottage, hurriedly packing suitcases, putting items in the last of the boxes they would take with them, and stacking the ones for the charity sale together.

Today, they were leaving.

Much of the organising was done, but the kitchen was still full of odds and ends. She walked past the now ticking grandfather clock and headed into the lounge. There, she paused, looking at the hole where the kitchen wall had been. The ceiling was a mess too, and the floor needed finishing. She would ask Ben to sort it out after she’d gone. The rest of the renovations could be done by somebody else. She didn’t care any more.

She pictured herself storming up to the schoolhouse, getting everyone out of bed and demanding answers. Someone had put that book on her pillow last night, she was sure of it. Claire had been the last person in the cottage with her, but she couldn’t remember Claire having the opportunity to go upstairs without Grace noticing. Besides, if Meredith had a copy of the key to the cottage, any of them could have done it.

Unless the cottage had its own ghost? Stopping the clock and moving things around, just like Timmy. Perhaps Timmy had come back with them last night; perhaps Millie really had seen him?

Grace shook herself out of that daydream. She would begin to fall apart if she believed that. She couldn’t afford to consider it.

Before Millie woke up, she called Annabel.

‘Grace,’ came her sister’s tired voice. ‘Why are you calling so early? I’ve only just got to sleep! How was New Year?’

‘Rubbish,’ Grace said. ‘How was yours?’

‘It was fine,’ Annabel replied. ‘But it would have been better with you. I feel horrible for leaving you. I’m sorry. Mum and Dad are really cross with me. How are you getting on?’

‘You don’t have to apologise,’ Grace said, hearing her voice crack slightly. ‘You’ve done so much for me in the last twelve months. But, listen, I’m thinking about taking a breather. We might come down to London – can we stay with you?’

‘Oh Grace,’ there was no mistaking the delight in Annabel’s voice, ‘that’s great. Of course you can. You’re doing the right thing. I know you want to sort out the cottage, but you don’t have to put yourself through hell to do it. You’ve done enough – the rest can be taken care of without you having to live there.’

As she listened to her sister’s comforting words, a few tears broke loose and ran down Grace’s face. When she hung up, she walked upstairs and looked out of the window across the moors. There are so many reasons why I can’t wait to get out of here, she reminded herself as she surveyed the bleak view. So why do I still feel this galling pull to stay?

When Millie woke up, Grace dressed her warmly. ‘We’re leaving today,’ she whispered to her daughter.

Millie played at her feet for most of the morning while Grace rushed about packing up the kitchen. She was emptying the cutlery drawer when there was a loud rap on the door. She dropped the spoons she was holding, and they fell to the floor with a clatter, but Millie didn’t even flinch.

Grace walked across to the window and pulled back the curtain to see Ben jiggling impatiently on the doorstep, his hands pushed into his pockets. Bess sat patiently next to him. As she looked at the dog, Grace remembered the open book on her bedside: a black dog that foretold death. Don’t be so silly, she told herself, finding that in daylight it was a little easier to repel her fears.

She walked to the front door and pulled it open. He smiled easily at her. ‘Happy New Year, Grace.’

‘Happy New Year,’ she echoed, feeling unaccountably pleased to see him.

‘I came to see what you’d like to do next on the cottage.’

‘Come in.’

He knelt close to Bess. ‘I won’t be long. Stay here.’

Bess lay down on the doorstep in resigned reply.

As Grace brewed the kettle, Ben crouched down on the lounge floor and spoke to Millie. Grace watched as Millie pulled herself up against Ben and stared into his face, putting a tiny finger out to poke at his nose, making him laugh.

‘Here you go,’ Grace said a few minutes later, offering him a mug of steaming tea.

He got to his feet, took it from her, then they both sat down opposite one another.

Grace looked at his hopeful face. ‘I’m sorry, Ben, but I’ve decided to go away for a while – so everything will have to be put on hold.’ She tried to pretend she didn’t care that they would be saying goodbye, but she couldn’t hold his gaze. This gentle, unexpected bond she’d formed with Ben was one she would certainly miss.

Ben looked surprised. ‘Where will you go?’

‘We’re going to stay with Annabel, figure things out from there. I’m hoping to leave today.’

Ben cradled his mug in his hands. ‘Well, I’m sure you’re doing the right thing. But for what it’s worth, I will miss you both.’

Their eyes met. Ben looked away first, back down at his tea, as he said, ‘Now, can I do anything to help you, before you go? You’re going to need to get cracking, Grace, the snow is due again this afternoon – you don’t want to be driving in that in daylight, never mind at night.’

There was nothing tying them together any more, but Grace didn’t want to say goodbye yet. So she hunted around for how he might help.

‘I’m pretty organised, I think. I just need to get the stuff in the hallway over to Ockton – I promised Emma that her sister could have them today for a jumble sale.’

‘Right then, I’ll load them up for you.’ He finished his drink, went through to the hallway and began taking boxes out to the car. After ten minutes, he was back at the door. ‘I don’t think I can get any more in.’