PROLOGUE
October 1995
He watched the child sleeping. She couldn’t have been more than five or six, but even in the half light of dawn her plump features were still recognisable as the woman he once knew. She held on to a small teddy bear—a blue one with a white chest and one ear missing—and when she flung her arm above her head, the bear fell and landed on the floor by his feet.
He looked down and frowned.
A moan escaped her rosebud lips as a chubby hand groped for the bear, then suddenly she opened her eyes. For a brief moment, their eyes met, a spark of recognition … then the scream.
Footsteps signalled the arrival of the child’s carer moments before light spilled into the room, illuminating the multitude of dancing girls that covered the cold brick walls, and a woman—nightgown flapping loosely behind her on a trail of cigarette smoke—rushed to the girl’s side. ‘What’s all the commotion about this time?’ she said. ‘I’ve barely been gone half an hour.’
‘He was here again,’ the girl sobbed. ‘He was looking at me.’
‘Nonsense,’ the woman said. ‘We’ve been over this a dozen times. It was just a dream.’
‘No, it wasn’t.’ The girl thrust out her bottom lip, and it was all He could do not to laugh.
Impatience darkened the woman’s face before being quickly replaced with a well-worn smile.
‘Fine. Then let’s have a look, shall we?’
The woman sighed and reached a weathered hand to the bedside light. With a flick of the switch, the room lit up, forcing the shadows to the far reaches of the room. The child’s eyes slid towards Him, unseeing as He skulked in the corner.
‘See,’ the woman said. ‘No-one here but me, and Uncle Ted.’ She picked up the bear and waggled it playfully.
‘But He was here,’ the girl said. ‘I saw Him. He was standing right there.’ She pointed to the spot where the woman stood with her shawl pulled tightly around her frail shoulders.
‘Now that’s quite enough,’ the woman said. ‘You can clearly see there is no-one here.’ She shoved the bear beneath the covers and began tucking the child in. ‘Close your eyes. We have a big day tomorrow.’
‘Sing me a song?’ the girl said.
The woman looked down with tired eyes. ‘If I do, will you promise to go straight to sleep?’
Wide, doubtful eyes stared back, but the girl gave the merest nod of her head.
‘Very well.’ The woman took her place on the edge of the bed and the little girl shoved a thumb into her mouth—finger curled over the tip of her nose—and looked to where He now stood at the foot of the bed. He smiled. She knew He was there, but she would not see Him if He did not wish it, and this time, He did not.
‘What would you like me to sing?’ the woman asked.
The little girl shrugged.
‘How about something my mother used to sing to me?’
The little girl nodded—eyelids already beginning to droop—and curled up into a ball, bear hugged tightly to her chest.
‘Very well.’ The woman began … ‘Hush, little baby, don’t say a word, Momma’s gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird won’t sing, Momma’s gonna buy you a diamond ring.’
He leaned back against the wall with arms folded, legs crossed at the ankles, and listened patiently. She had a pleasant voice—soft, yet gravelly—and could carry a tune well, but as the child gradually drifted off, the woman choked on the final words. She leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on the girl’s forehead before turning off the lamp.
Shadows crept back across the wooden floor and He moved with them, drifting to stand beside the woman as she clutched something at her chest. Her shawl—frayed at the edges, its colour long faded from the forest green it once was—reminded him of the one Augustine used to wear, though hers had been made of the finest fabric money could buy. The temptation to make himself known to her then was strong, but to reveal his presence would serve no great purpose and would only trouble the child further if she were to suddenly wake up. But still, He moved a little closer, daring her to see as she reached up to her neck and removed the silver chain that rested there. A pendant hung from it, a crystal that glinted briefly where the Hunter’s Moon caught its amorphous surface before she slipped it neatly beneath the sleeping child’s pillow. He smiled. The crystal was as much a part of His past as it was the child’s future. The woman turned to him then, eyes searching, head cocked as though listening to some far-off sound. She reminded him of someone he knew—the tilt of the head, lips full and sensual despite her aging years—but the eyes were all wrong; dove grey instead of green, and full of self-loathing and fear. She shivered, knuckles white where she gripped the shawl too tight, and with one last look around the room, she turned towards the door and walked out.
CHAPTER ONE
13 September 2015
Rae watched the coffin being lowered into the ground and realised she had never felt so utterly miserable. As the priest spoke his final words of committal, she looked around at the gathering of family and friends and wondered if any of them had ever truly cared for Grace Winters. She thought not, at least not in the way that she did. Funerals were never easy—that went without saying—but some were worse than others. Granddad’s funeral had been a quiet affair, something that he had insisted on, but the few mourners in attendance had at least been there out of love and respect for the wonderfully compassionate man that Winston Winters had been.
Grace’s funeral, however, was a different affair entirely.
To say it was lavish would be an understatement. If the coffin had been made of solid gold, it would not have looked out of place amongst the obscene amount of flowers that adorned the headstone—a headstone whose cost could have fed a small family for an entire year. But that was Grace all over—rich as a queen, generous to a fault and effortlessly over the top until her dying day, and Rae could not have loved her more.
She only wished the same could be said of the mourning congregation.
Umbrellas popped up as the first drops of rain fell onto the cemetery. Most were a respectful black, but the odd blue and red, and even a polka dot yellow, surfaced amongst the canopy of brollies. Rae suppressed a smile. Grace would have approved, however Matilda—Tilly to those who disliked her the most—was not so easily impressed.
Watching Rae with the piercing glare of a hawk, Tilly looked stiff and uncomfortable in her tailored skirt suit and ridiculous high heels, and Rae wished, just for a moment, that the inappropriate footwear would get stuck in the mud leaving Tilly to squelch her way back in only her stocking feet.
Grace would have approved of that too.
One umbrella, the yellow polka dot one, found its way over Rae’s head as an arm looped through the crook of her elbow and gave a gentle tug. She didn’t want to leave—not yet. She would’ve preferred to stay with Grace a little longer, but she allowed herself to be carried along with the flow, and away from the only person who could begin to understand what she was going through.
‘You okay?’ Ronnie, Rae’s only friend, looked glass-eyed beneath a fringe of flaxen curls. ‘Stay a little longer if you need to. I don’t mind waiting in the car until you’re ready.’ She blew her nose loudly into a tissue that smelled strongly of balsam.
Rae looked back towards the grave where solemn faced men stood idle with their spades, keeping a respectful distance until they could fill in the last grave of the day, and shook her head. ‘I’m fine. Let’s just go.’
Ronnie’s cherry red rental stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the long line of black funeral cars parked beneath an ever-present stormy sky and brought a rare smile to Rae’s face as she headed straight for it. ‘I think Cruella would rather you travelled with the family,’ Ronnie said, inclining her head to where the heat from Tilly’s glare burned from the front of the funeral procession. Rae ignored her sister’s stare and climbed into the car just as Peter, Tilly’s hulking great lump of a husband, headed their way.
Peter—younger than Tilly by five years—fit into the Winters family like a puppy in a den of wolves. Rae pitied him almost as much as she pitied their equally docile son, Angus, who now held an umbrella over Tilly’s head as she watched her husband trudge through the soggy grass towards Rae.
‘You wanna talk to him?’ asked Ronnie, as Peter’s fat fingers rapped on the glass by Rae’s face. Rae fastened her seatbelt and stared straight ahead. ‘Fuck him,’ she said, ‘let’s just go.’
Rae had been staying in a hotel ever since Grace had taken ill, and it was here where Ronnie was headed before embarking on the long drive back to Inverness. ‘You’re doing the right thing.’ Ronnie’s voice was soft but guarded as she pulled out of the cemetery and into the afternoon traffic.
Rae didn’t speak, only stared out through the rain-streaked window at the blur of pedestrians going about their daily business. She was thinking of Grace. Trying to remember her before the yellowed skin and sunken eyes took over, but each time she summoned that beautifully aged face, it was cruelly snatched away.
‘I was really proud of you today,’ Ronnie continued. ‘I know how hard it must have been without you know who there, but … well, I just want you to know I think you were really brave.’
Brave? I couldn’t be more of a coward if I tried. ‘Thanks,’ Rae said. ‘It means a lot, you being here.’
‘Least I could do for my best bud,’ Ronnie smiled. ‘I’m only sorry I couldn’t come sooner. You know … before Grace died.’ She cast a glance at Rae, and Rae smiled in return, but the effort of keeping up appearances was beginning to take its toll.
‘You sure you’re okay?’ Ronnie asked. ‘You look awfully pale. I could stay another night or two if you like. I’m sure Adam won’t mind.’
‘I’m fine,’ Rae said. ‘I leave for Cranston Myre tomorrow, and as forgiving as Adam is, I doubt he’d be happy if his pregnant wife was at the opposite end of the country to him for any longer than necessary.’
‘It’s only a train journey away,’ Ronnie said. ‘And besides, it might be just what he needs. Make him appreciate me more.’
‘He appreciates you just fine. You’re lucky to have him.’
‘I know,’ Ronnie said. ‘He is pretty wonderful.’ She glanced at Rae, then added, casually, ‘I don’t suppose there’s any chance that you and—’
‘Don’t start, Ronnie. Not today, please.’
‘I’m not. I promise. I totally respect your decision. I just thought, under the circumstances …’
Rae shot her friend a warning glance. She knew exactly where this was headed and had no intention of letting Ronnie take it any further. It had been bad enough dreading Darryl showing up at the funeral, his absence being the only good thing to come out of this depressing day.
‘Don’t look at me like that, Rae. I know he did a shitty thing, but none of us are perfect. I just worry about you, that’s all.’
Rae turned back to the window. ‘Well, don’t. I’m perfectly fine.’
‘Really? Because you look like crap. Darryl said you won’t answer any of his calls.’
‘You spoke to him?’
‘Not exactly. He texted me a few times to see if I knew where you were, and—’
‘You didn’t tell him, did you?’ Rae had visions of Darryl showing up on her doorstep—shoulder still bandaged from their fight—and her stomach dropped several feet.
‘Of course not,’ Ronnie said. ‘What do you take me for? He seemed worried, though. Are you sure there isn’t something you’re not telling me?’
Darryl’s face, twisted in agony, popped into Rae’s mind. ‘Positive. Now can we drop it?’
Ronnie sighed dramatically. ‘Alright. But at least promise you’ll get a dog. I hate the thought of you being out there all alone.’
‘I hate dogs.’
‘Nobody hates dogs, Rae. Now you’re just being facetious.’ This time it was Rae’s turn to sigh. ‘Okay Ronnie. If it will make you feel better, I promise to think about getting a dog. Now will you please stop worrying and just drive?’
CHAPTER TWO
The drive to Cranston Myre took longer than expected and was in no small way down to the tumultuous amount of rain that continued to fall. Had Rae been in a better frame of mind, she might have postponed the journey until the next day, when blue skies and fluffy white clouds were forecast, but the need to get away far outweighed the threat of any storm.
Tilly’s shrill voice down the phone the previous night, demanding to know why Rae hadn’t shown up at the wake, had only confirmed that leaving was the right thing to do. Not that she needed validation. Now that Ronnie had returned to Scotland, there really was nothing left in Manchester for Rae. And then, of course, there was Darryl. Leaving Darryl behind was the biggest incentive of all.
A sign flashed by, announcing Rae’s exit. She changed lanes and left the motorway. She hadn’t eaten since early morning—only managing half a slice of burnt toast even then—and her stomach grumbled its displeasure. Streetlights tapered off, giving way to open fields as evening slowly crept in, enveloping the countryside with its ominous presence, and echoing the emptiness that Rae had felt since Grace’s death. Rae was a loner at heart, preferring her own company to that of others, but Grace’s sudden demise, together with Ronnie’s departure to Scotland, had hit her hard. Veronica Maine, or Ronnie if you ever wanted her to speak to you again, had been Rae’s closest friend since childhood, and apart from Grace, was just about the only other person in the world that Rae trusted. But Ronnie didn’t know about Rae’s secret. Not even Grace had known about that.
In an effort to drown out the self-pity, Rae turned on the radio. Close to You by The Carpenters was playing. The song that Darryl would sing when nightmares woke her in the middle of the night. She turned the radio off and continued the drive in silence.
Forty minutes later, the village of Cranston Myre finally came into view, shining like a beacon of hope in the distance, and Rae’s spirits lifted just a little. She picked up speed, eager to start her new life far away from the ever-watchful eyes of her hateful sister and the never ending phone calls from Darryl, and with a lighter heart she reached the edge of the village and pulled over to double check the directions.
Grace had purchased a property in Rae’s name when Rae was only very young, but for reasons unknown, had kept it a secret. The property’s existence came to light soon after Grace’s death, and Rae was now the proud owner of a cottage on the edge of Dolen Forest. Grace’s intentions for purchasing the cottage remained a mystery, but Rae was grateful that she had. Money wasn’t an issue, but having somewhere she could go, somewhere of her own that was quiet and isolated from her estranged family, was the only thing that had kept Rae sane during the buildup to the funeral. The executor of Grace’s Will—an aged solicitor that had served the Winters family for more than fifty years—had contacted Rae the day before the reading of the Will. He had given Rae an envelope that contained a map and a key. The decision had been left with Rae whether to tell the family where she was going or keep the cottage a secret, as Grace had done. She chose the latter. When the Will was read, the lion’s share of the Winters’ estate went to Tilly, leaving Rae with a sum modest enough to keep Tilly happy. But what Tilly didn’t know was that Grace had been feeding discreet amounts of money into a savings account in Rae’s name for years. It was a calculated decision by Grace, and one that gave Rae the means to escape quietly while ensuring that Tilly did not feel the need to contest the Will—something that Rae was most assuredly grateful for.
The map showed the cottage wasn’t far, perched on the edge of the forest, secluded for privacy but close enough to the village that Rae wouldn’t be entirely cut-off from the world. It had also been empty for close to twenty years, so she wasn’t expecting much, but it was enough. She slid the envelope back into her bag and pulled out onto the high street.
The Rook & Wheel pub oozed old world charm as Rae drove past it, with Georgian windows, hanging lanterns and window boxes filled with flowers that refused to wilt even with the onslaught of rain. A sandwich board on the roadside promised a warm fire and the best pies in the south, and Rae decided that as the cottage had stood alone all these years, another hour wouldn’t hurt it. She swung the car around, narrowly missed two young girls huddled beneath a shared umbrella, and pulled into the empty car park. She waved an apology as she climbed out of the car, was rewarded with a two-fingered salute, and grabbed her raincoat before holding it over her head and running to the door.
Inside was a large open fire that crackled invitingly, with fairy lights hanging from its mantel—an early reminder that Christmas was not far away—and thick bodied candles glowed from inside glass cases. A large leather couch took pride of place in front of the hearth, and tables adorned with tea lights in miniature vases dotted the space in between. The pub was mostly deserted save for a man and his two female companions on the couch by the fire, and a much older gentleman perched at the end of the bar. The soft click of a pool cue echoed through a large alcove to the right, where raised laughter caught Rae’s attention. She recognised two of the occupants as being the girls from the car park, both hovering over a group of young lads more engrossed in their game than their female companions. Girl number one—a pretty blonde with too much make-up and not enough skirt—looked up as Rae approached the bar and whispered into the ear of her friend; a much stockier version of herself with a face, less pretty, more bulldog. Both looked at Rae and grinned.
‘Pay no attention.’ A short man with hair thinning on top and a long, wiry beard appeared at the bar. ‘They’re loud, but harmless enough. What can I get you?’
Rae tried to ignore the peel of laughter that echoed from the poolroom. ‘Coke, please. And a menu if you have one.’
‘We normally close the kitchen at eight during the week but given it’s only ten past I’m sure we can rustle something up. Would steak and ale pie do you?’
‘Sounds perfect,’ Rae said, feeling her stomach warm at the prospect of food.
‘Sit yourself down then and I’ll bring it over in a jiffy.’
‘Can I get one of those too, Bob?’ A young woman stepped up beside Rae and slapped a twenty-pound note on the bar. She had closely cropped pink hair that dripped water down her face and wore a black leather jacket. She grinned broadly as Bob the bartender took the money.
‘You’ve eaten here often enough to know what time the kitchen closes,’ he said. ‘You’ll get me in trouble with the old lady if you keep doing this.’
‘No more trouble than you’re already in,’ the young woman said. ‘Go on, Bob. Maggie won’t mind.’
Bob sighed and shook his head. ‘You’ll be the death of me, Alexandra Graham.’ Then he shuffled off through a small opening at the end of the bar.
‘I hope that wasn’t because of me,’ Rae said. ‘I don’t want to get him into any trouble.’
‘Don’t let him fool you,’ the young woman said. ‘Bob will keep right on serving food until it either runs out or the clock chimes twelve and he turns into a pumpkin. He just likes to moan a little on the way. I’m Alex,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘I’ve been waiting all day for you to show up.’
Rae took the offered hand, albeit cautiously. ‘I’m sorry, do we know each other?’
‘I hope so,’ Alex said, ‘otherwise I’ve just made a complete fool of myself. Alexandra Graham? Didn’t Grace mention me? She sure as hell talked a lot about you. You’re exactly as she described. Except for the eyes. She said they were brown, but they look more—’
‘They’re hazel,’ Rae said, bristling at the girl’s familiarity with her background. Anonymity was the biggest draw for moving to Cranston Myre, and within minutes of arriving, the fantasy had been shattered. ‘They change according to my mood,’ she added, seeing the surprised look on Alex’s face. ‘I’m sorry, but Grace never said a word. How did you two know each other?’
The bartender placed two Cokes on the bar between them. ‘Food will be over shortly,’ he said, ‘if you ladies would like to sit down?’
‘Shall we?’ Alex picked up both Cokes and walked off without waiting for an answer.
Rae stared after her. This was not how she had envisioned the first night of her new life going, nor did she wish to eat dinner with a total stranger. Alex chose the table nearest the window and beckoned for Rae to join her by waving and pointing to the empty stool opposite. Great, thought Rae, just what I needed. With an air of reluctance that she didn’t care to hide, she walked over, dropped her coat on the floor, and pulled out the empty stool.
‘Sorry to put you on the spot like that,’ Alex said. ‘I just assumed that Grace had told you all about me. I’ve been taking care of The Briar for the last few months, getting it ready for your arrival today. Grace insisted the fire be lit and the cupboards full for when you got here. I would have called to confirm a time, but Grace never gave me your number.’
Rae stared at her, as though doing so would jumble her words into something that made a modicum of sense. ‘The Briar?’
‘The cottage,’ Alex said. ‘The place you’re going to be living in? It’s just a nickname, but pretty much everyone around here calls it that. Sorry to hear that Grace passed, by the way. I knew she was sick, but it’s never easy when the end finally comes. I sent flowers,’ she added, when Rae didn’t reply. ‘Lillys. They were her favourite, weren’t they?’
Rae nodded. She didn’t know what to make of this strange pink-haired girl who seemed to know more about what Rae was doing than Rae did. ‘What you said about me arriving here today, it doesn’t make any sense,’ she said. ‘I hadn’t decided if I was coming here at all until a few days ago, so Grace couldn’t have known.’
‘Here you are, ladies.’ A rotund woman with flushed cheeks placed two plates of steaming hot pie, mashed potato, broccoli, and cauliflower on the table, then disappeared.
Alex shrugged. ‘What can I say? I’m just acting on Grace’s instructions. Maybe she knew you better than you thought?’
The rotund woman appeared again, this time armed with cutlery, napkins and salt and pepper. She pulled out a stool and sat down, kicking her shoes off under the table. ‘Don’t mind if I sit here for a minute, do you?’ she said. ‘My feet are killing me.’
Alex picked up a knife and fork and immediately tucked in. ‘Maggie,’ she said, through a mouthful of food, ‘this is Raewyn, she’s moving into The Briar. Got any brown sauce to go with this?’
Maggie reached over and clipped Alex behind the ear. ‘Don’t you dare, missy. My pie can stand on its own, thank you very much. Wish I could say the same for my poor feet.’
‘You should take a night off?’ Alex said. ‘Get Bob to do some of the work for a change.’ She winked at Rae as Maggie chuckled and leaned back on her stool.
‘Hear that, Bob?’ she shouted. ‘Alex says I need a night off.’ Bob rolled his eyes, shook his head and turned back to wiping down the bar.
‘So,’ Maggie said, turning to Rae. ‘The Briar, eh? I hope young Alex here has told you what you’re letting yourself in for?’
‘No, not really.’
Rae turned to Alex when she groaned loudly. ‘Leave it out, Mags,’ Alex said. ‘She only arrived a few minutes ago.’
Maggie folded her arms and gave Alex a stern look. ‘All the more reason to tell her then, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Tell me what?’ Rae asked. She caught the look of warning Maggie shot to Alex before Alex rolled her eyes.
‘Fine!’ Alex said. ‘Margaret thinks the place is haunted, which, of course, it isn’t, so pay no attention.’
‘Not just haunted,’ Maggie said, leaning in close. ‘Cursed, and not just the cottage, either. Those woods are not for the fainthearted, my love. Take my advice, Raewyn, you give that place a wide berth. You’ll not find a single local walking in those woods. They know better, you see. Mark my words, it’s better if you stay away from that place. Get your head down here if you like. We’ve room enough and don’t charge the earth like some places, and what’s more, you’ll have a good hearty meal like that one in your belly each and every night. I can’t say fairer than that.’
‘She’ll end up the size of a house if she eats your food every night,’ Alex said. ‘Stop trying to drum up business.’ That earned Alex another clip around the ear, but she laughed it off and turned to Rae. ‘It’s just stories,’ she said. ‘Old folktales. Stuff and nonsense. The cottage has sat empty for years, so people just make shit up.’
‘And why has it been empty all these years?’ Maggie said. ‘A place like that? It should be a gold mine and yet no-one has been near it for as long as I can remember.’
‘Well, maybe the owner didn’t want anyone near it,’ Alex said. ‘Ever thought of that?’ She shook her head at Rae, and Rae raised an eyebrow in return.
‘Mock all you want,’ Maggie said, ‘but there’s something up with that place.’
‘Noted,’ Alex said. ‘I’ll be sure to have it exorcised first thing in the morning.’
‘Maybe you should,’ Maggie said. ‘You young uns—you think you know everything about everything. But in my experience, you know nothing at all.’
‘Says the woman who thought using olive oil and vinegar instead of sun cream was a good idea.’
‘That was a long time ago. And I wish I’d never told you.’ Maggie winced as she slipped on her shoes and lifted her hefty frame from the stool. Bob was tapping the face of his watch behind the bar. ‘Look at him, the cheeky beggar,’ she said. ‘I swear that man thinks I’m a machine. Alex, will you ask Dee to make up some more of that foot cream for me? It did miracles for my bunions last time.’
‘Only if you promise to stop bad-mouthing Rae’s cottage.’
‘How about I promise not to put you over my knee, lady?’
Alex grinned. ‘I’ll have your cream ready tomorrow afternoon. My treat. You should probably go before Bob has an apoplexy.’
Maggie thanked Alex, winked at Rae and mumbled something about men and slave drivers before shuffling off towards the bar.
‘Pay no attention,’ Alex said, shovelling another forkful of food into her mouth. ‘Folk round here are a bit weird. Takes a while, but you’ll get used to them.’
‘You were about to tell me how you met Grace.’ Rae still hadn’t touched her food and scooped a forkful of mashed potato into her mouth.
‘We didn’t meet,’ Alex said. ‘She found me about three months ago. I’d been helping my cousins renovate their place and fancied myself as an interior designer. I’d only just got a website up and running when Grace phoned me. Asked me to spruce up the cottage, give it a clean, lick of paint, new furniture, that sort of thing. Even opened a bank account so I could have carte blanche over the project. Quite trusting really given we never physically met, but we talked often, and I sent her regular updates. I don’t think she realised just how much of a state the place was in until I took her on a virtual tour.’
‘But she must have visited at some point, surely?’ Rae scooped up more mash. It was delicious.
‘Dunno,’ Alex said, ‘didn’t seem like it. All I know is she wanted it top notch for when you arrived, and no expense was to be spared.’
Rae tasted the pie. It was every bit as tasty as the mash, but she suddenly found she had no appetite. ‘It just doesn’t make sense,’ she said, putting down her knife and fork. ‘How could Grace possibly have known I was coming here today?’ Alex shrugged as though the how of it was of no concern. But to Rae, it meant everything. Because if Grace had known she was sick three months ago, then why had she told Alex and no-one else? It stung that Grace had felt she couldn’t confide in Rae, because Rae would have told Grace anything, even about what happened with Darryl if Grace hadn’t already been in hospital. She turned to the window and ran a finger down the misted glass. It was still pouring outside. She couldn’t have picked a worse day to pack up her life and move away from everything she knew.
‘Why Grace?’ Alex said suddenly. ‘You never say mum. Why is that?’
The question prickled, but was one Rae had been asked many times over and the answer was well practiced. ‘Habit,’ she said. ‘Grace adopted me when I was very young, but she already had a daughter who was less than pleased by my sudden appearance. I learned to refer to Grace by name rather than mum. It seemed to placate Tilly, and rather than upsetting the apple cart further, I guess it just stuck. Grace didn’t seem to mind, and she was a wonderful mother in every way that mattered.’
‘But not your mother,’ Alex said with a nod. ‘I get it.’
Rae opened her mouth to object, feeling that she needed to defend her reasons for having never given Grace the title she deserved, but decided against it and instead grabbed her coat. ‘Thank you for the company,’ she said, ‘and for taking care of the cottage…’
‘But you’ve hardly touched your food.’
‘… and give my apologies to Maggie, will you?’
‘Wait,’ Alex said. ‘I’ll come with you. The turn off can be difficult to see in the dark.’
‘No, thank you,’ Rae said. ‘You finish your dinner. I’m sure I’ll manage.’
Rae didn’t bother to cover her head as she stepped out the door, and instead let the rain sluice over her shoulders. Alex had been an unwanted surprise, and the only thing Rae could think of right now was slipping into a hot bath before losing herself to the sweet oblivion of sleep. She slung her coat over the back seat, slid behind the steering wheel, and checked herself in the mirror, frowning at her pallid skin and sunken eyes. She needed this break more than anything. Needed the time to be alone—to figure out who she was, even what she was—and what she was going to say to Darryl when she finally plucked up the courage to call him. She opened the glove compartment and took out her phone. It was on, but the volume was low so she wouldn’t have to listen to the constant chiming of Darryl’s texts. She pressed the button and held her breath as the screen came to life. Sure enough, there they were. She counted seven messages and four missed calls, all from Darryl. She threw the phone into her bag, put the key in the ignition, and turned. The engine kicked to life briefly, but died before she could slip it into gear. She turned the key again, and then again, and then again. With a sigh of frustration, Rae let her head fall back against the seat. Of all the fucking nights! She sighed and closed her eyes. In truth, she was amazed the car had made it this far. She should have traded it in months ago but had been too preoccupied with her failing relationship, and then Grace’s illness, to do much of anything. She pulled her phone from her bag and was about to search for a taxi when there was a tap on the window.
‘Car trouble?’ Alex shouted over the rain.
‘It’s probably just the battery,’ Rae shouted back. ‘I was just about to call a taxi.’
‘Nonsense,’ Alex said. ‘I’m going your way, anyway. Pop the boot and I’ll help with your bags.’
The drive to the cottage took less than ten minutes, but that was perhaps more down to Alex’s Lewis Hamilton impersonation than anything else, and the turnoff for Foxglove Lane was near impossible to see in the dark, helped in no way by the overgrown hedge that blocked the sign from view. A lone streetlight cast an eerie glow over the entrance to the woods as Alex turned onto the long driveway, expertly navigating the muddied ground with precision and speed that both impressed and terrified Rae at the same time.
‘Here we are,’ she said, finally grinding the car to a halt. ‘Home sweet home.’
Rae hadn’t expected much, but she hadn’t expected to feel so underwhelmed either. The exterior was bare except for a few vines that crept over the grey stone wall, barren of leaf or flower and giving the impression of bulging veins beneath a pair of aged hands. The thatched roof sagged in the middle and any charm the pale blue picket fence may have given was marred by the grind of the gate as it swung on its rusted hinge. It was a moonless night, the only light coming from Alex’s headlights, and as the wind ripped through the woods, Maggie’s words of warning suddenly took on a much more sinister feel.
‘Doesn’t look like much, does it?’ Alex said. ‘But it’s better in daylight, you’ll see. I’ll get the bags while you open the door.’
Steeling herself for further disappointment, Rae stepped onto the porch, inserted the key, and held her breath. A rush of warm air greeted her as the door swung open, and perhaps it was only the imagination of a tired mind, but it seemed to Rae that the house had been holding its breath too, and as one they released it when Rae stepped over the threshold.
‘If you like, I can show you where everything is?’ Alex said, squeezing past Rae to dump the bags by the kitchen table. She switched the light on, then turned to Rae with hands on hips. ‘So, what do you think? Not too shabby after all, eh?’
Rae felt some of her anxieties slip away as she looked around. ‘It’s … perfect,’ she said, and meant it. Furnished with an understated rustic charm. It was Rae down to a tee.
‘My instructions were simple,’ Alex said. ‘Muted colours, nothing fussy and definitely no chintz. Did I hit the mark?’
Rae swallowed as a lump formed in her throat. ‘Smashed it out of the park.’
‘Well, don’t thank me yet,’ Alex said. ‘You still haven’t seen the bathroom. To say it’s small would be an insult to small bathrooms. I would’ve liked to do a complete refurb, but I did the best I could with what little time I had.’
There it was again, reference to Rae’s imminent arrival. She opened her mouth to say something, but changed her mind. Fatigue crawled through her veins like concrete and the last thing she wanted was more conversation. ‘I’m sure it’s absolutely fine,’ she said. ‘But I expect you’ve got better things to do than show me around.’
‘Oh, it’s no bother,’ Alex said, draping her coat over the kitchen table. ‘I’ll stick the kettle on, shall I?’
Rae’s stomach dropped. ‘Alex. I’m really grateful, but …’
‘Say no more.’ Alex quickly grabbed her coat again. ‘I have a tendency to overstay my welcome. I also talk too much, so I’ll spare you a headache and get out of your hair. Before I go though, I should warn you there is no central heating. The fires already stoked and there’s a tonne of wood stacked in the shed out front. You’ll also find the cupboards and fridge well stocked too—plenty of wine, chocolate, more wine, and some of the not so important stuff like actual food. Oh, and before I forget, there’s a rather delicious looking banana cake in the pantry, and a batch of homemade cookies courtesy of yours truly, so you might want to do a taste test with those first. Other than that, everything you need should be here.’
‘I don’t know what to say,’ Rae said. ‘I feel like I’m throwing you out.’
‘Nonsense. If I were you, I’d throw me out too. Right, I’ll be off then. Don’t forget to holler if you need anything—I’m only a stone’s throw away. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow?’
‘Sure,’ Rae said, ‘and thanks again.’
When the door closed, Rae sagged into the nearest chair. The weight of the last few weeks bore down like a mountain of guilt, and while she’d made a promise to herself to stop wallowing in self-pity, she was finding it difficult to do without either of her best friends by her side. She grabbed the phone from her bag and pulled up Ronnie’s number. She may not have Grace to talk to anymore, but Ronnie was still only a phone call away. Then she threw the phone down without pressing the green button. Ronnie had problems of her own with twins on the way. The last thing she needed was a clingy friend dropping all her shit at her door. Rae grabbed her overnight bag, turned off the light and headed upstairs.
EMERSON LAINE 