House of Echoes. Barbara Erskine

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      ‘Presents, food, blankets, hot-water bottles. I’m like a Red Cross relief van!’ Lyn had driven into the courtyard next morning, her old blue Mini groaning under the weight of luggage and parcels. ‘Mum and Dad are coming back on Wednesday, but I thought I’d give you a hand.’ She smiled shyly at David. ‘I’m going to be Tom’s nanny so Joss can write world-shaking best sellers!’

      ‘I’m glad to hear it.’ David grinned. He had only met Joss’s younger sister on a couple of occasions, and had thought her hard and, he had to admit, a little boring. For sisters the two had had little in common. Now, of course, he knew why. They weren’t sisters at all.

      It was eleven before he managed to cajole Joss away from the house on the pretext of hunting up some of the names from the Bible in the church. They started in front of Sarah Percival. ‘I noticed her because the memorial was so ornate. There must be older ones,’ she whispered. She wandered away from him down the aisle. ‘Here we are, Mary Sarah Bennet died in 1920. It just says of Belheddon Hall. No mention of her disappearing husband.’

      ‘Perhaps she didn’t want him buried with her.’ David was staring absently up into the shadows near the north door. ‘There’s a lovely little brass here. To the memory of Katherine –’ he screwed up his eyes, ‘it’s been polished so often I can’t make out the second name. We need more light.’ He stepped closer, reaching up the wall to trace the letters with his finger. ‘She died in 14- something.’

       Katherine

      In the silence of the old church Joss flinched as though she had been hit. She was standing on the chancel steps, staring at a small plaque on the wall behind the lectern. At David’s words she turned, to see him stroking his fingers lightly over the small, highly polished brass. ‘Don’t touch it, David – ‘she cried out before she had time to think.

      He stepped back guiltily. ‘Why on earth not? It’s not like walking on them –’

      ‘Did you hear?’ She pressed her fingers against her temples.

      ‘Hear what?’ He stepped away from the pulpit and came to stand next to her. ‘Joss? What is it?’

      ‘Katherine,’ she whispered.

      He had been riding – riding through the summer heat, trying to reach her …

      ‘That was me, Joss. I read out her name. Look. Up there on the wall. A little brass. There are some dead flowers on the shelf in front of it.’

      Riding – riding – the messenger had taken two days to reach him – already it might be too late –

      In the cut glass bowl the water was green and slimy. Joss stared down at it. ‘We must renew the flowers. Poor things, they’ve been dead so long. Nobody cares –’

      Foam flew from his horse’s mouth, flecking his mantle with white …

      ‘There aren’t any flowers at this time of year unless you go to a shop,’ David commented. He wandered away towards the choir stalls once more. ‘Did you bring a notebook? Let’s copy some of these names down.’

      Joss had picked up the vase. She stared at it vacantly. ‘There are always flowers in the country, if you know where to look,’ she said slowly. ‘I’ll bring some over later.’

      He glanced at her over his shoulder. She seemed strangely preoccupied. ‘Shouldn’t you leave it to the flower ladies?’ he said after a moment.

      She shrugged. ‘They don’t seem to have СКАЧАТЬ