House of Echoes. Barbara Erskine

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      Joss shook her head. ‘Let’s go to the house first. I can’t wait to see what it’s like inside.’ She reached into the glove compartment and brought out the box of keys, hugging it against her chest. ‘We can’t expect the locals to accept us just like that. When I rang David Tregarron to tell him our plans he said it would take twenty years for anyone round here to accept a stranger. As I was a blood relation, probably nineteen years eight months.’

      Luke laughed.

      ‘Up there now, round the green,’ Joss went on. ‘I think the drive must lead off the lane beyond the church. He said he would come and see us.’ David had been more than just her boss. Confidant, friend, sparring partner, his warmth and genuine regret when she had phoned him a couple of days earlier had touched her deeply. ‘There. That must be it.’

      The wrought iron gate, standing between two stone gate posts, topped with moss-covered pineapples, was standing half open in the tall hedge. Luke drew the car to a halt. Climbing out he peered up the drive as he tried to force the gate back over the muddy gravel. There was no notice to say this was Belheddon Hall, no sign of the house as the overgrown driveway curved out of sight between the high laurel hedges.

      He climbed back into the car. ‘OK?’ Her excitement was tangible. He reached across and squeezed her hand. ‘The return of the prodigal daughter. Let’s go.’

      The drive was not very long. One sweep past the hedges and they were there, drawing up on the grassy gravel in front of the house. Luke pulled up and cut the engine.

      ‘Joss!’ It was all he said. For several seconds they sat in silence, staring through the windscreen.

      It was Joss who moved first, opening the door and stepping out into the freezing wind. Silently she stood staring up at the house. It was her birthplace. Her inheritance. Her home.

      Behind her Luke stood for a moment watching her. He was intensely proud of his wife; she was beautiful, intelligent, hard working, sexy – sternly he cut short that train of thought – and now an heiress as well! Silently he stepped up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. ‘So, how does it feel to be home?’ he said softly. He had read her thoughts exactly.

      She smiled, brushing her cheek against his hand. ‘Strange. A little frightening.’

      ‘It’s a big house, Joss.’

      ‘And we have no money.’ She turned and looked up at him. ‘You have always liked challenges.’ Her eyes were sparkling.

      ‘If we’re seriously going to live here for any length of time, we’ll need cash from somewhere for taxes, heat, electricity and food. On top of that there will be endless ongoing repairs. Shouldn’t be a problem.’ He grinned. ‘Your mother did leave you a magic lamp, a bag of gold coins and six live-in servants?’

      ‘Of course.’

      ‘Then, as I said, no problem. Come on. Where’s the key? Let’s go in.’

      The keyhole in the front door was two inches high. Joss already knew the contents of the key box by heart; there was nothing in there which would fit. She reached for a couple of yale keys. Both were labelled ‘Back door’.

      They walked along the front of the house, passing the shuttered lower windows and turned through the stone archway. There a square range of coach houses, garages and stables surrounded a cobbled courtyard one side of which was the east wall of the house. By the back door stood a black iron pump.

      ‘Joss!’ Luke stared round. ‘You realise what I could do here, don’t you! I’ve had the most brilliant idea! Looking for jobs in London will probably be a dead loss, but I could work here!’ In three steps he had reached one of the doors. Pulling it open he peered into an empty garage. ‘Cars! I can restore cars. I can start again. My God, there would be room to do it, too. It would give us a living of sorts.’ Excitedly he peered into the stable and outbuildings.

      Behind him Joss was smiling. The house was working its spell. She could see his depression lifting as she watched. She stood there for a few minutes more, then, unable to resist it any longer she turned alone to the back door.

      It was swollen with damp and grated against the York stone flags of a narrow dark hallway. ‘Wait for me!’ Coming up behind her, Luke caught her hand. ‘I think this is somewhere I should carry you over the threshold, don’t you?’

      Giggling, Joss clung to his neck as he swept her off her feet and he walked with her into the darkness of the first room down the passage. There he set her down, panting. ‘My God, woman. What have you been eating? Bricks?’

      They stared round in silence. The huge room was shadowy, a pale, reluctant light filtering around the edge of the shutters. ‘It’s the kitchen,’ Joss whispered. A huge fireplace took up the whole of one wall. In it a double size cooking range slumbered like some great black engine. On it stood an iron kettle. In the centre of the room stood a scrubbed oak table with round it six bentwood chairs. One was pulled out, as though the person seated on it had only a moment before stood up and left the room. To the left a glass-fronted dresser, dusty and hung with spiders’ webs, showed the gleam of china.

      Silently, hand in hand like two trespassing children, Joss and Luke moved towards the door in the far wall. Over it a board hung with a line of fifteen bells, each controlled by a wire, showed how in days gone by the servants had been summoned from the kitchen quarters to other parts of the house.

      Beyond the kitchen they found a bewildering range of small pantries and sculleries, and at the end of the passage a baize-lined door. They stopped.

      ‘Upstairs and downstairs.’ Luke smiled, running his hands over the green door lining. ‘Are you ready to go above stairs?’

      Joss nodded. She was trembling. Luke pushed the door open and they peered out into a broad corridor. Again it was shadowy, bisected by fine lines of dusty sunlight. Here the scrubbed flags finished and they found themselves walking on broad oak boards which once had carried gleaming polish. Instead of an array of exotic carpets a drift of dried leaves had blown in under the front door and lay scattered over it.

      To the right on one side of the front door they found the dining room. A long table stood there in the shuttered darkness, surrounded by – awed, Luke counted out loud – twelve chairs. To the left a large door, much older than anything they had seen so far, Gothic, churchlike, led into an enormous, high-ceilinged room. Amazed they stood staring up at the soaring arched beams and the minstrel’s gallery, screened by oak panelling, carved into intricate arches. ‘My God.’ Joss took a few steps forward. ‘It’s a time warp.’ She stared round with a shiver. ‘Oh Luke.’

      There was very little furniture. Two heavy oak coffer chests stood against the walls and there was a small refectory table in the middle of the floor. The fireplace still held the remains of the last fire that had been lit there.

      On the far side of the room an archway hung with a dusty curtain led into a further hallway from which a broad oak staircase curved up out of sight into the darkness. They stood peering up.

      ‘I think we should open some shutters,’ Luke said softly. ‘What this house needs is some sunlight.’ He felt vaguely uneasy. He glanced at Joss. Her face was white in the gloomy darkness and she looked unhappy. ‘Come on, Joss, let’s let in the sun.’

      He strode towards the window and spent several minutes wrestling with the bars which held the СКАЧАТЬ