A Haunting Compulsion. Anne Mather

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СКАЧАТЬ village lay below them, its roofs grey-tiled and solid, with the spire of the church just visible above a cluster of poplars. The road to the village ran beyond the barrier of rhododendrons, and wound its way down between fields, that Rachel remembered as being pastureland. Now, however, they had been ploughed, and left to turn their dark furrows to the blue sky, ready for sowing when the frosts of winter were over.

      It was all much as she remembered it, she thought unwillingly, admitting that until now she had not realised how sharply it had remained in her memory. The house, and the village, and the tussocky cliffs sloping down to the river estuary, where the Roth spilled its waters into the North Sea.

      She shivered suddenly, as the coolness of her room struck through the thin satin of her nightgown, and was starting back to warm herself beneath the covers when there was the lightest of taps at her door. She stiffened for a moment, and then, realising that Jaime would be unlikely to knock and announce himself, she opened her mouth to call: ‘Come in!’ when the handle turned and Maisie’s head appeared.

      ‘Oh, you’re up!’ she exclaimed, opening the door wider to reveal the small tea tray in her hands. ‘I thought you might still be sleeping, and Mrs Shard said not to disturb you if you were.’

      Rachel relaxed. ‘I was just re-acquainting myself with everything,’ she admitted, taking the tray from her eagerly. ‘Hmm, I could just do with a cup of tea. Especially yours, Mrs Armstrong.’

      ‘Indeed!’ The housekeeper sounded sceptical, but she looked pleased, and Rachel perched on the side of the bed, setting the tray beside her.

      ‘Is—is everyone up?’ she asked, raising the wide-rimmed china cup to her lips. ‘What time is it? My watch seems to have stopped.’

      ‘It’s a quarter to nine,’ replied Maisie chattily, plainly disposed to linger. ‘Oughtn’t you to put on a dressing gown or something? You’ll be catching your death in that flimsy thing.’

      Rachel smiled. ‘Well, I was beginning to feel a bit cold,’ she admitted. ‘But your tea has warmed me up beautifully.’

      ‘Mmm.’ Maisie pulled a wry face. ‘Well, so long as you’re sure.’ She twitched the fringe of the bedcover into position, then added: ‘Mrs Shard is downstairs, taking tea in the morning room, while she opens the mail, but Mr Shard isn’t up yet, and nor is Jaime.’

      ‘I see.’ Rachel caught her lower lip between her teeth.

      ‘That was a rare old business, wasn’t it?’ Maisie went on. ‘Jaime getting shot like that, and being brought home on crutches.’ She moved her shoulders expressively. ‘My, my, you should have seen his mother’s face when he limped into the house!’

      ‘I—I can imagine.’ Rachel’s blood quickened at the thought of it.

      ‘Yes—well, he came to the right place,’ Maisie opined firmly. ‘It’s only right that he should come home and be looked after by people who care about him.’

      ‘Of course.’ Rachel wondered if this was a subtle criticism of her.

      ‘Of course, Mrs Shard was worried about that, what with you coming and all,’ the housekeeper continued. ‘But I said to her, I did, this is Jaime’s home, I said, and Miss Williams won’t expect you to consider her feelings at a time like this.’

      ‘Thank you, Mrs Armstrong.’ Rachel put down her cup. ‘That was delicious.’ She moistened her lips. ‘Er—will you tell Mrs Shard I’ll be down in fifteen minutes?’

      ‘Yes, miss.’ The housekeeper picked up the tray again, and moved towards the door. ‘You—er—you haven’t spoken to Jaime yet, have you? He’s in his room, just along the hall, if you’d like to go and have a word with him. After you’re dressed, of course.’

      Rachel kept her smile in place with difficulty. ‘I expect I’ll see him later,’ she declared stiffly, and the housekeeper looked disappointed.

      ‘I’m sure he’d like to see you, Miss Williams,’ she persisted. ‘And it is Christmas Eve, you know. The season of peace and good will.’

      ‘Thank you, Mrs Armstrong.’ Rachel’s dismissal was unmistakable this time, and with a little shrug the housekeeper left her, evidently feeling she had done what she could to repair the damage.

      With her departure, Rachel rose purposefully to her feet again and padded into the bathroom. The night before she had paid little attention to her surroundings, but now she took time to admire the rose and cream tiles that circled the bath, and the fluted glass shower, with its pinewood door. The bath beckoned, but time dictated a shower, so she turned on the tap and stepped beneath its steaming cascade.

      Her hair got wet, but she had brought a hand-dryer with her, and its smooth style was easily restored. Then, after examining the contents of her suitcase, she dressed in a pair of well-worn denim jeans and a long-sleeved cotton shirt. Ankle boots completed the outfit, that acquired a simple elegance on her slim body, and applying only the lightest of make-ups, she left the room before she lost her nerve.

      In the carpeted corridor outside, she hesitated for a moment, counting the doors to Jaime’s room. His door was half open, as if inviting her investigation, but she was not tempted. She doubted he had asked Mrs Armstrong to intercede on his behalf, but she had no intention of getting involved with him, whatever kind of pressure was brought to bear.

      Liz greeted her cheerfully when Rachel entered the morning room a few moments later. As the housekeeper had said, Jaime’s mother was absorbed with her mail, and Rachel walked over to the long windows, gazing out in silent admiration at the greyflecked waters of the bay. Beyond a stone-pillared terrace, sloping lawns fell away almost to the cliff’s edge, and the seaweed-strewn teeth of the rocks below were just visible, constantly washed by the ever-moving tide. On summer days it was possible to swim from the rocks, and there were deep pools where one might find crabs and other shellfish, but although the sky was clear this morning, the sea would be cold as ice. Its distant thunder reached her, as it sucked at the base of the cliffs, the rocks providing a natural protection for the more porous ridges of limestone.

      Turning back to the table, Rachel seated herself, and picked up the morning paper lying beside her. She flicked through it idly, until Maisie put in an appearance and asked her what she would like to eat.

      ‘We’ve got kidneys and sausages, or kippers, if you’d prefer them,’ the housekeeper suggested approvingly, but Rachel only shook her head.

      ‘I think—just toast and coffee,’ she conceded regretfully. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have a good appetite.’

      ‘Then we’ll have to see if we can change that, Maisie, won’t we?’ Liz remarked, looking up from her bank statement. ‘I seem to remember you used to enjoy your food, Rachel.’

      Rachel coloured then. ‘That was a long time ago, Liz.’

      ‘Not so long,’ Liz retorted firmly. ‘Didn’t you used to share Jaime’s bacon and eggs, the last time you were here?’

      His name came more naturally, and although Liz looked slightly appalled afterwards, Rachel forced herself to respond without hesitation. ‘I was younger then,’ she sighed, pulling a wry face. ‘I have to watch my figure these days.’

      ‘Nonsense! Let us do that for you!’ remarked Robert’s amused tones, and Jaime’s father came into the room, СКАЧАТЬ