Victoria Holt - Road to Paradise Island

Why was her grave neglected? The others were not. It was as though someone had buried her and wanted to forget.

That afternoon it was too hot to go out walking or riding. I stretched out on a chair in the garden in the shade, listening to the bees. The lavender was almost depleted now; the blooms had been gathered and made into sachets for drawers and cupboards so the busy little insects were at work on the purple blossoms of the veronica. Idly I watched a dragonfly flit across the pond over which Hermes was poised as though in flight. I caught a flash of gold as the fish swam round in the pond. There was a stillness everywhere as though all nature was tense ... waiting for something to happen.

The quiet before the storm, I thought.

The heat continued through the afternoon. We sat about languidly after dinner. Granny M said it had been too hot for her to go into Great Stanton today. I agreed with her.

We retired early. The heat made sleep difficult, and it was about two o'clock in the morning when the storm broke. I was only half-asleep and was immediately startled into wakefulness by the violent crash of thunder which seemed right over my head. I sat up in bed. So the long-threatened storm was upon us.

A flash of lightning brightened the room to be followed immediately by another heavy clap of thunder.

The sky seemed ablaze. I had never seen such lightning. I heard movements in the house and I gathered that some of the servants were stirring.

Thunderstorms were not very frequent and when they came were usually soon over. This one was right overhead and the crashes were following fast on one another.

I got up and put on my dressing gown and slippers and as I did so I heard the loudest crash so far. I stood very still, my heart beating fast.

Then I heard it again ... right upon us. I could hear the sound of falling masonry.

I ran out into the corridor. Philip was there.

"Something's been struck," he said.

"You mean ... the house."

"I don't know."

Another crash, then another and another.

Granny M appeared.

"What's happened?" she demanded.

"We don't know yet," said Philip. "I thought the house had been struck."

"Well, we'd better find out."

Some of the servants had arrived.

"Mr. Philip thinks we may have been struck," said Granny M. "Don't panic. It can't be much. We'd soon know if it was. Oh!"

That was another clap right overhead.

"Philip... and you, Jennings." She indicated the butler who had just arrived on the scene. "You'd better go and look. Where do you think it could be?"

"I'd say the roof, Mrs. Mallory," said Jennings.

"The rain will be pouring in somewhere," said Philip. "Better find out quickly."

I could hear the rain lashing against the windows as Philip with Jennings and others went running up the stairs.

Granny M and I followed.

I heard a shout. It was Philip. "The roofs damaged," he said.

I could smell burning, but there was no fire. The rain would quickly have put that out. Water was pouring into the corridor.

Granny M was calm and in charge of the situation. Receptacles of all kinds were brought up to catch the rain. There was such a bustle and excitement that the storm was forgotten. It continued to thunder on.

One of the housemaids though was having hysterics.

"She always does, Miss, for thunder," one of the maids told me. "It's on account of her auntie shutting her in a cupboard when she was five and telling her it meant God was angry and punishing the world..."

Two of the maids went off to succour their hysterical companion.

Jennings was as calm as Granny M. He investigated the damage and said: "Nothing can be done till tomorrow, Mrs. Mallory. Then we'll have to call in Gow's."

The storm persisted for an hour and during that time we were emptying buckets of rainwater and doing our best to prevent further damage. It was a great relief when it stopped raining and the deluge in the receptacles was reduced to drips.

"What a night," said John Barton who had come in from his rooms over the stables to give a hand.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Mallory," said Jennings. "It's not as bad as I first thought. I'll go along to Gow's just as soon as they are opened."

"And now," said Granny M, "I think we should have something really warm. Some hot punch I think. Will you see to that, Jennings.

For the family in my sitting room, please, and see that it is served in the kitchen too."

So we sat in Granny M's room listening to the faint rumbling of thunder in the distance, sipping hot punch, and telling each other that this was a night we should always remember.

In the morning William Gow came to assess the damage. One other house on the Green had been struck, he told us. People were saying it was the worst storm for a hundred years.

William Gow was up on the roof for some time and when he came down he looked grave.

"Worse than I thought," he said. "There'll be quite a bit of work to be done... apart from the roof repairs, and you know, Mrs. Mallory, how hard it is to find the right tiles for these old houses. They've got to be medieval and yet they've got to be sound. It's not only that, though. Some of the woodwork has been damaged. That will have to be replaced."

"Very well, Mr. Gow," said Granny M. "Just let me know what."

"Well, I wanted to look at the panelling in that part where the damage has been done. Some of it will have to be made good. Otherwise it's going to rot and break away."

"Make a thorough examination," said Granny. "And then we'll discuss it."

He spent the whole morning climbing about, tapping and examining.

I went out walking round the village. Many of the bushes had been beaten down but there was a smell of freshness in the air. There were puddles everywhere and the entire village seemed to be out and determined to hear the latest news.

I could not resist calling on Mrs. Terry. She was sitting up in bed with the air of an ancient prophet.

"What a storm, and can you wonder! I sat up in bed saying, 'Let them have it, O Lord. It's the only way of learning these here sinners.'"

I thought of the housemaid who at five had been shut in the cupboard and told the storm was due to God's anger and it occurred to me that the righteous could cause a great deal of trouble in the world.

"I am sure the Almighty was glad of the advice," I couldn't resist saying acidly.

"They say the Manor has been struck," went on Mrs. Terry, ignoring that remark. "The roof, wasn't it?" I fancied I detected a disappointment that the damage had not been greater. "And the Carters, too. Their place was hit. Well, they will go gadding about.

And do you know they bought that Amelia of theirs a gold locket and chain. At her age."

"And the damage to their home is the wages of the sin of gadding about and buying a gold locket?"

"I don't know. People get their just deserts. That's what it says in the Bible."

"Does it? Where?"

"Never you mind where. It just does, that's it."

"Well, I'm glad you survived, Mrs. Terry."

"Oh, I knew I'd be all right."

"Special protection from Heaven. But the righteous don't always escape. Think of the saints and the martyrs."

But Mrs. Terry was not going to be drawn into a theological controversy.

She merely murmured: "This will be a lesson to them... perhaps."

When I arrived back at the house I went upstairs to see how William Gow and his assistant were getting on.

I met him in the corridor which I always called the haunted spot.

He said: "I've been looking at this wall, Miss Annalice. The damp got through here. Look at this." He touched it. "I don't reckon that's safe," he went on.

"What do you propose?"

"I reckon we should take down this wall. I can't understand what it's doing here. The panelling isn't quite the same quality as the rest of the corridor."