Sara Foster - Beneath the Shadows

‘Adam’s still at the bottom of the Leap?’ Ben sounded incredulous.

‘Yes.’

Grace was overtaken by a sudden vile rush of nausea. She remembered Annabel talking about the Leap. Sitting nearby on Christmas Day, looking towards the spot. Standing on the precipice tonight. And all that time, Adam was down there, in the ground.

A great wound deep inside her began to claw at itself, tearing her open and digging deeper and deeper, hollowing her, until she was empty from the inside out. Up to this moment she had sometimes allowed herself to imagine him coming through the front door, throwing his arms around her, making it all right. But now he was lost forever. She could picture his easy smile, could well remember the deep vibration his voice made if she pressed her ear to his chest, and the concave space where her hand nestled between the muscles there. She still knew the solidity of him, his warmth, his breath, the place where his cheek merged from softness to sandpaper as his stubble grew. Now, as horror flooded her, she imagined that same body beneath layers of earth, the leeched lifelessness of it, the decay. Numbing shock began to edge its way along her limbs.

She closed her eyes and gripped Millie tighter. Hold on, she told herself. Just hold on to Millie. Yet she felt her body begin to sway until Ben’s strong hands reached out and caught her, guiding her back to a chair.

‘Tell me the rest,’ Grace said, her eyes still closed.

‘I’ve told you all I know.’

‘No.’ Grace opened her eyes and glowered at Meredith. ‘I want to know about the book I found open on my bed. The damn clock stopping and starting. The word written on my car… You obviously still have a key to this place.’

Meredith paused, which told Grace all she needed to know. ‘That clock has been known to stop at three a.m. on occasion. Connie and Bill talked about it for years – Bill always found it a great joke, it was his heirloom. Connie hated it… As for the rest, they were only minor things. I didn’t know what else to do. From the moment you got here I was terrified that this would all come out eventually, unless I could get you to leave… and you seemed unnerved by the ghost stories.’

Grace was going over everything else that had happened. She realised how close she had been to abandoning the cottage without putting all this together. Would she have been better off that way? It didn’t matter now.

‘Grace,’ Meredith said, interrupting her thoughts. ‘I know I’ve played a part, but I don’t know what else I could have done. I was desperate to protect my family. All I’ve ever wanted was to try to shield my children from having to bear the consequences of such horrific mistakes.’

At this, Ben made a strange sound and threw his hands in the air.

‘You too, Ben,’ Meredith said defiantly. ‘Perhaps now you know what Ted did, you might understand…’ Then she turned to Grace. ‘All I ask is that you don’t call the police until the morning. I would like the time to speak to my daughters tonight; to explain. I would appreciate it if you could grant me that much. Because I brought your child back, Grace. I didn’t know anything about Adam’s birth or his death until things were set in stone – there was nothing I could have done to change either. And I told Ben straight away where he could find Jenny and Millie tonight. I didn’t deliberately set out to cause you any harm. So I’m asking you to allow me a little bit of time.’

As Grace sat in stunned silence, Ben said, ‘This is unbelievable.’

‘I know you’re angry with me, Ben,’ Meredith said. ‘But life is not always simple – surely you know that by now.’

Ben looked stony-faced at this, but said nothing.

Grace glared at her. ‘I’ll give you until dawn. And then it’s over, Meredith.’ She tried to look into the depths of Meredith’s fixed stare, to see if there was more to uncover, but her eyes were black marbles. Grace had been sure she’d spotted cracks forming, but they had closed over now, and she was banished from whatever else lay beneath.

Meredith turned swiftly and headed towards the hallway. In the doorway, she paused, listening. ‘Your clock appears to have stopped, Grace.’

And then she was gone.

Ben let them into his house, with Bess running ahead of them.

‘You can both sleep in my room if you like. Will she be okay in the double bed?’ He nodded at Millie, who was semi-slumbering on Grace’s shoulder, occasionally shifting her head from side to side.

‘Thank you,’ Grace replied, weariness overtaking her. It was only early evening, but it felt like the dead of night – it had been dark for hours, and so much had happened.

Ben showed her up to his room and flicked on a bedside light. He paused at the door. ‘Can I get you anything?’

Grace just wanted to sleep. ‘We’ll be fine. Thank you.’

He left them alone. Grace put Millie on the double bed, rearranged pillows so she wouldn’t fall out, and lay down next to her fully clothed. And then, although it was painful beyond measure, she let herself remember Adam. Tears streamed down her face and soaked the pillow.

After a while she was exhausted, but sleep wouldn’t come. She did nothing but toss and turn, until finally, defeated, she headed downstairs for some water.

It was after midnight, and she was surprised to hear music coming from the lounge. The door was wide open, light shining beyond it, and she peered inside.

Ben was lounging on the sofa, staring into the distance with a glass of golden liquid in his hand. At his feet, Bess gave a gentle woof but then put her head back onto her paws. Ben glanced up. ‘Can’t sleep?’

Grace barely heard him, for she was taking in the contents of the room. In addition to the furniture, there were half a dozen large canvasses stacked against one wall, and an easel stood by the front window. A photograph was clipped to the top of it, and on a canvas beneath, the face had been replicated in charcoal outline.

Without a word, she moved closer. It was a little girl, not much older than Millie, with blonde ringlets and blue eyes that shone with merriment.

‘Who is this?’

‘My daughter.’ Ben sat forward, his incisive eyes searching Grace’s for her reaction.

‘Oh!’ Grace couldn’t hide her astonishment.

‘She’s two, and she lives in Australia with her mum.’ Ben’s voice was tender, his eyes fixed on the easel. ‘Catherine and I were married for five years – happily, I thought – but when Sophie was six months old, she left me for someone else.’ He caught Grace’s eye before his gaze fell towards the floor. ‘I still find it very difficult to talk about. I was completely taken by surprise, and it blew my world apart – made me question everything I thought I knew. I hadn’t even known that Cath was unhappy…’

Grace went across and sat next to him. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘I’m not very good at sympathy,’ he said, swirling his drink and watching it spin. ‘When my walls start to crumble, I’m so damn frightened of what’s behind them that I fix them straight back up again. Basically, I’m a mess…’

Grace’s laugh was ironic. ‘Well, I understand that feeling.’ She gestured around them. ‘But you certainly have a hidden talent.’ She indicated the canvases, most portraying the moors at varying times of day.

‘I needed something to keep me busy – before your cottage came along, of course. I find painting very therapeutic.’ He watched her studying the pictures. ‘Since I’ve been back I’ve noticed just how different the tones of daylight can be – in Australia it’s all yellows, here it’s much more about blues and greys.’