Beneath the Shadows (15 page)

At the sound of her cry, the man spun on his heel. ‘Grace!' Ben said, a mixture of astonishment and worry on his face. ‘What are you doing out here?'

For a moment she had imagined it was her husband, and nothing else had mattered except catching up to him. Now, bitter disappointment derailed her.

‘Why the hell are you creeping around?' she shouted. Ben appeared to wince at her loud voice, and glanced uncomfortably towards the trees and the car park and hall beyond, but there was no one visible, only the faint sound of music.

‘Grace, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you – I didn't know anyone else was down here.'

‘But what are you doing here?' she demanded, still angry. ‘You said you weren't coming.'

‘Well, I changed my mind. A few times, actually. I was
wondering if this might be –' He stopped, as though reluctant to go on.

‘Be what?' Grace insisted.

Ben shook his head. ‘Never mind, it doesn't matter.' He came closer. ‘Here,' he took off his jacket and held it up to drape over her shoulders, ‘you must be freezing.'

Grace became aware of how tightly she had wrapped her arms around herself, and how hard she was shaking. She let him lay the jacket over her, and as the fight left her, tears began to form in her eyes. She looked down.

‘You should go back inside, Grace, where it's warm.'

She kept her focus on the ground. ‘I'd rather not, for a minute.'

‘All right then, come and sit in my car for a while and get warm.'

He led the way to the Land Rover, slivers of light from the hall reflecting off the bonnet. She heard the click of his key-fob and the doors opened. Grace climbed into the passenger seat and laid her head back against the head rest, while Ben got into the driver's seat and started the engine.

‘Where are we going?' Grace asked, alarmed as the doors automatically locked with a loud click.

‘Nowhere,' Ben said, ‘I was just switching the engine on to get the heat coming through properly.'

Grace looked at the bright lights of the hall, and pictured the cheerful celebrations inside. Right at this moment she wanted to be far away from it all. ‘Actually, can you take us for a drive?'

Ben didn't say another word, but put the car into gear and began to reverse.

Once they were heading slowly down the gravel driveway, Grace nestled into her seat. The silken lining of Ben's jacket was soft against her arms, and she pulled it closer around her, breathing in the unfamiliar scent of his aftershave on the lapels. The dark sky formed a backdrop to the sable silhouettes of trees as they sped along. Nightfall made everything an illusion. The small red and blue lights on Ben's dashboard were comforting, reassuring little beacons of safety; the car their small enclave on the unfamiliar roads.

She roused herself as Ben slowed, to find that they were caught in a traffic jam.

‘What's going on?' she asked, intrigued.

‘They're heading for midnight mass.'

Grace looked towards the church in the distance, then at the cars pulling up. ‘I've never been,' she said. ‘Have you?'

‘Would you like to go now?'

Grace considered the unexpected offer. ‘Yes.'

Ben pulled in to the kerb without a word. They got out of the car and made their way through a small lych gate, then along the churchyard path towards bright, welcoming light. Grace hadn't been to a church service since she was a child. Her parents used to attend every week, until her father had found a new religion called golf.

They slid into an empty pew at the back, and Grace looked around. The church was long and thin with an ornate high ceiling. The organ droned in the background as the congregation filed in, then struck up with a renewed vigour as the clergy processed slowly down the aisle.

When the service began, Grace let the words wash over her, the vicar's voice rising and falling in prayer. When she
was asked to kneel, she pressed her face against her hands and let her tears come in silent relief, acknowledging how helpless she felt, and sending out a plea that the coming year would be brighter and happier for Millie and for herself.

When the service ended, she felt lighter. She hadn't so much as looked at Ben since entering the church, but now, as people began to wish one another a merry Christmas, he turned to her with a smile. ‘Happy Christmas, Grace.' She smiled in reply, enjoying the snatched moment of tranquillity. Then she glanced at her watch.

‘Oh no, I've got to get back. Annabel and James will be going mad … and I need to get home for Millie.'

‘The ball doesn't finish until one,' Ben reassured her. ‘They might not have even registered that you've gone.'

But Grace had no doubt that they would have noticed by now. ‘Can we go quickly?' she asked as they hurried out of the church, saying a brief Merry Christmas to the vicar before rushing back to Ben's car.

Ben unlocked the doors as he went swiftly around to the driver's side. ‘Don't panic, Grace, we'll be there in ten minutes,' he said as they climbed inside.

During the journey, Grace jiggled her knees up and down impatiently. But as they came onto the long gravel drive she was distracted from her worry, as Ben said, ‘Look, why don't I leave you all to have Christmas dinner on your own. I don't want to intrude.'

‘Ben, you're not intruding – really,' Grace insisted, keen for him to come after he had been so gently supportive of her tonight. ‘We'd love to have you. Annabel will grumble all day if you back out now …'

‘Well, all right, if you're sure.'

For some reason his detachment infuriated her, and she twisted in her seat to face him. ‘Ben, why are you house-sitting in the middle of nowhere on your own? What's going on?' Jenny's wary face and long auburn hair flashed through her mind. What role did that woman play in his life?

Ben lapsed into silence for a long moment, his features grim, before he said, ‘I have some unfinished business, like you.'

‘You skirt around giving straight answers every single time, do you realise that?' Grace demanded, irritated.

She saw his jaw tighten. ‘Grace, I can assure you, this is not a Christmas Day kind of conversation.'

She sat back in her seat with an exasperated sigh, unable to think of a reply.

When they reached the end of the drive, instead of going right to the car park, Ben pulled up on the grass beforehand.

‘Will you be all right from here?' he asked.

‘Yes, of course,' she said, puzzled. But before she could turn away, he slowly leaned towards her, and she felt her heartbeat skitter as his face drew close to hers. She smelled his aftershave again, studied the taut line of his jaw, and when his face was almost touching hers, she looked into his eyes. He was watching her curiously.

She had forgotten to breathe. Then she heard the latch of her door as he opened it for her, and he straightened back up into his seat, even though he was still scrutinising her.

‘Ben,' Grace began as she let go of her breath, forgetting that anyone was waiting for her now. She sensed she might not get another chance at such intimacy with him. ‘You can trust me, you know.'

Ben leaned back, staring at the car roof. ‘I know,' he said. ‘I know that, Grace. I just don't want you to think …' He stopped, apparently lost for the next words. Then he turned to face her. ‘I left here under a cloud, Grace. A very, very black cloud.'

‘Even so, can't you come and join the final hour of the party?' she urged, giving his sleeve a small tug of encouragement. ‘Have a drink for Christmas, forget your troubles for a little while. You can stick with us,' she added, in case he was worried about more reactions like those of the publicans in Roseby – briefly trying to imagine what he might have done to have caused them, then wishing she hadn't.

‘I wish I could. I drove all the way over here because my sister told me to come – in fact she said it was an excellent idea – but now I'm here I doubt it very much.'

‘I didn't know you had a sister,' Grace said, pleased that he had shared this small confidence with her.

‘I have four of them, Grace,' Ben replied, ‘and three are in there right now, along with my mother, who hasn't spoken to me for fourteen years, and who still isn't ready to talk to me now.'

Grace's mouth dropped open as her mind began clicking things into place.

‘Meredith?' she breathed, unable to believe it.

‘Yes, Grace,' Ben said. ‘Meredith is my mother.'

Grace was stunned, but as she sat beside Ben with no idea what to say next, she caught sight of two people standing on the front steps to the hall, looking around while they talked agitatedly.

Ben had spotted them too. ‘You'd better go.'

‘Will you be okay?'

He turned to smile at her, though his eyes were weary. ‘I'm fine, Grace. You go now, I'll see you tomorrow.'

She gave him a worried glance, climbed out of the car and heard him reversing down the road. She waited a moment then began to walk up to the hall.

James and Annabel swooped on her as soon as they saw her. Annabel was beside herself, declaring that the party was definitely over and they were heading back.

‘Don't you EVER do that to me again,' she shouted at Grace. ‘Where the hell have you been?'

‘I needed some time to myself,' Grace told them, grateful that the music from inside was drowning out their remonstrations, and reluctant to tell them that she had been with Ben, knowing they were likely to read it all wrong.

They walked to the car. Once they were inside, Annabel refused to speak to Grace for the rest of the journey. Grace looked to James for support, but he stared stonily ahead as he drove, and made no move to dispel the fraught atmosphere.

Grace glanced out of the window, exhaustion creeping over her. The roads heading home were disturbingly hushed. The headlights' full beam did their best to penetrate the black night, but to little effect.

It was hard to believe it was Christmas Day. She had a suspicion that when they got up again in a few hours, it would feel more like going through the motions than a true celebration. She remembered Ben, standing outside the hall tonight, so close and yet so far removed from the rest of his family. What on earth had happened to make it that way?

She was tempted to share her discoveries – it might thaw the frostiness in the car – but stopped herself, feeling she could be betraying Ben's confidence. He would tell them about it himself if he wanted to.

‘People were saying we're in for a heavy snowfall tomorrow,' James said beside her, breaking her train of thought.

‘Good job you stocked up today then,' Grace responded, after which they said nothing further.

Grace was relieved when the Roseby village sign flashed by them. As they pulled up outside the cottage, she remembered Millie with a guilt-laden jolt. How could she have left
her alone out here? What if something had gone wrong and Millie had needed her? She hurried inside and found Emma lazing sleepily on the sofa, the television burbling in the background. ‘Not a peep,' she reassured Grace. ‘I hope you had a good time.'

Grace said her thanks, and saw Emma out. Then she crept in to Millie's room, peeked briefly at her daughter's peaceful, sleeping face, whispered, ‘Happy Christmas, little one,' and took herself off to bed.

 

When Grace woke up, she was pleased to discover that it had been a rare night without dreams. Her head felt groggy, however, and a dull ache began as she remembered what Liza had told her about Adam. She went in to see Millie, and found her standing holding the bars of the cot, cuddling Mr Pink while eying her full stocking in the corner with a mixture of wonder and apprehension.

Grace gave Millie a few presents to open. They had only got as far as unwrapping a board book and a jigsaw puzzle when the child began to lose interest, and Grace smiled as Millie grabbed Mr Pink, threw him ahead of her and crawled towards the door. As they were going downstairs, Annabel appeared and headed towards the bathroom. ‘Merry Christmas,' Grace said, but Annabel just grunted.

James was already up and drinking coffee at the kitchen table.

‘I'm sorry if I scared you last night,' Grace began as soon as she saw him.

‘Never mind. As long as you're all right?'

‘I am … though I don't know if Annabel will be talking to me today.'

‘Now don't be too hard on Annabel,' James said. ‘Remember, Adam went missing around here. So when you go MIA, she worries – she's bound to.'

Grace felt chastened. James looked like he wanted to add something more, but then Annabel appeared.

‘Merry Christmas!' she greeted them, hugging them all before going across to the kettle. ‘When are we opening presents?'

‘As soon as possible, I think,' Grace replied, relieved that she appeared to have been forgiven. She jiggled Millie on her hip, then poked her tongue out to encourage her daughter to laugh.

‘Come on then, little lady.' Annabel plucked her niece from Grace's arms. ‘Let's go and see what we can find under the tree.'

 

They spent the next couple of hours opening presents. Annabel's selections were always interesting. Crème de la Mer for Grace (‘It's so overpriced, but I'm saving your skin from cracking up in these Arctic temperatures'), while James received Ted Baker boxer shorts, which he looked quite pleased with until he saw that the labels said ‘extra-large'. ‘I thought you'd take it as a compliment,' Annabel laughed when he complained. Grace had bought Annabel some Smythson business accessories and a pair of pyjamas, but had to apologise to James as he opened his gift. ‘In my defence, I didn't know you were coming.'

In haste, she had managed to locate an empty photo frame and make a collage to go in it, by scanning old pictures onto the computer.

James beamed at her after he opened it. ‘A decade of Grace, James and Annabel! Don't worry, it's perfect.'

Despite her considerable pile of presents, Millie wasn't much interested in the unwrapping process. James had given her Mr Men stories, and tried in vain to get her to sit with him while he read, but Millie's face grew increasingly wary and she kept crawling close to her mother. In the end he gave up, and began to help Annabel prepare the dinner, while Grace took the new toys out of their boxes. By the time Millie went down for her nap there was nothing much left to do. James switched the television on, and he and Annabel settled themselves in front of it. Grace tried to join them, but she couldn't concentrate, thinking about Liza's and Ben's revelations the previous night.

She sat there for a while feeling fidgety, then got up. ‘I might go for a quick walk.'

‘You and your walks,' Annabel said absently, her eyes fixed on the television. ‘Just don't disappear for hours this time.'

‘Want me to come?' James asked, and looked half relieved and half disappointed when Grace replied, ‘No, it's fine – I won't be long. Just need a bit of fresh air. Millie shouldn't be up for at least another hour or so, but listen out for her, will you?'

She went into the hallway, pulled on her wellies, collected her jacket, gloves and hat, and headed out. The sky was a strange colour – almost yellow – and she sensed that the
fresh snowfall they'd been warned about wasn't far away. She inhaled deeply, smelling the frosty grass and wet tarmac, feeling the cold air surging down her throat.

At the top of the hill, she turned off the road and made her way along a path of mud and flattened grass, skirting around the edge of dry stone walls. When she reached the familiar large flat stones, she sat there for a while, taking in the view. She looked across towards Lover's Leap, remembering Annabel describing it as the most haunted place on the moors. Then her mind returned again to the previous night – and Liza's urgent voice as she had confessed to Grace in the shadows of the lake.

She pictured Adam at a library computer, trying to trace his father, and knew she couldn't sit on this information. Grace was sceptical about rousing the police's interest with such a scant new lead, but they needed to know. Liza's name didn't have to come up unless they thought it was significant.

Grace jumped up from the stone slab as an idea came to her. What was stopping her from finding Adam's father herself? She could go to the library, try to retrace Adam's footsteps, and see what he might have uncovered. At least then she would have an idea of what he might have been going to tell her, the thing he'd referred to in his mysterious note.

She felt reinvigorated by this new sense of purpose, looking towards the sky and taking a few deep breaths. As she did so, the first specks of snow landed on her, sticking to her clothes and gloves. She kept her face upturned, flakes appearing out of the void above her in a soft white flurry. She spun around slowly, catching them on her tongue, feeling
their frozen, gentle caress on her skin in the brief moment before they vanished.

A dog began barking nearby, and a voice said, ‘Having fun?'

Ben stood a short distance away, wearing a padded coat, beanie and thick gloves. Bess was by his side, her tail wagging.

‘Yes, I am,' she said, smiling, feeling a glow of fresh colour suffuse her cheeks.

‘Merry Christmas, Grace.' He came closer, until she could see small specks of snow clinging to the stubble on his chin.

‘Merry Christmas,' she replied, recalling him leaning over her in his car a few hours ago. It felt like a distant memory.

‘What are you doing out here?' he asked.

‘Oh, getting some fresh air and having a think. We all walked up here the other day, and Annabel was telling us your stories about Lover's Leap.' She gestured beyond the railway line. ‘Is it really the most haunted spot around here, or were you having her on?'

‘A bit of both, really.' There was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. ‘It is notorious – but the ghost stories are ancient. It's all cuckolded husbands and distressed maidens. I've spent more time there than most and I've never seen a ghost.'

‘Really?' she asked. ‘And what were you doing there?'

‘Dealing with my teenage angst,' he laughed. ‘It's an easy place to get to from the schoolhouse. There's a path that goes straight there, called the monks' trod. They're all over the moors – centuries ago the monks used them to navigate,
and they were also known by smugglers bringing in contraband from the coast. The path eventually connects with this one. For a while, Claire and I would go and sit dangling our feet over the edge to smoke and complain about our family. We've always been close, although I'd stopped going there by the time Claire began taking Adam along. My next bolt-hole was one of the ruined workers' houses. By that time life was turning a bit more serious for me.' He lost the smile, and as he gazed into the distance, Grace could tell that his thoughts were elsewhere. He looked back and paused, as though debating what to say. In the end, he said nothing, and as she met his eyes, she felt slightly off-balance.

‘I should be getting back,' she said.

‘I know a short cut. I'll show you.' He began to walk away.

She hesitated, her mind still attuned to their conversation. She wondered what had turned him so sombre, and felt a fleeting sense of disappointment that he hadn't confided in her.

Ben turned around. ‘Are you coming?'

‘Yes,' she replied hastily, snapping out of her trance and following him.

The snow's gentle fall was deceptive. Before long it flew heedlessly into her eyes, melted into cold drips that ran down her face, and soaked through the jeans she wore. The journey seemed to be taking forever, when halfway along the path by the stone wall, they passed a gate.

Ben stopped. ‘Let's go through the field,' he suggested, rubbing his hands together as though to warm them. ‘It's so much faster.' He clambered over the gate. ‘Come on, Bess,'
he shouted, and the dog immediately bounded up onto the wall and down the other side.

Both of them turned to look at Grace. ‘Come on then,' Ben urged.

‘Isn't this trespassing?' she queried as she grasped the gate and started to climb, feeling awkward as she tried to swing her leg elegantly over the top – an impossible feat while wearing wellies.

‘Only if they see you!' Ben replied. ‘And I don't think anyone else is daft enough to be out here on Christmas Day – too busy stuffing themselves with turkey and drinking themselves under the table.'

His words conjured up the rich, spicy aroma of warm mulled wine, and this urged Grace onwards. She jumped down from the gate and found herself standing in a patch of sucking mud, deceptively slick. Ben grabbed her elbow, steadied her, and helped her to wade through the bog. Once clear, they all hurried across the field.

As they neared the next gate, Bess stopped and began barking, and Ben slowed beside her for a fraction of a second, turning to look behind them. Grace had kept her head down to keep the snow from getting in her eyes, but now she glanced up. Seeing Ben's alarm, she automatically twisted round to follow his stare.

Through the snow she could make out a large, shaggy-haired creature with solid, curved horns. It was ambling towards them. As they watched, it quickened its pace, some distance away yet, but getting closer much too fast for Grace's liking. Then it broke into a run.

Ben shouted, ‘Oh shit! Move, now!' He lifted up Bess
while she was still barking, and practically threw her over the gate. Then he was by Grace's side, yelling, ‘You next, Grace,
hurry
!'

Her heartbeat charged into her ears like the thunderous thud of hooves. Ben's body was now close against hers, his breath warm on the back of her neck as she gripped the top beam. He pushed her, propelling her upwards, and she swung her leg frantically over the top. In her panic, she leaped rather than climbed down, landing in another patch of slippery mud. It took her legs out from beneath her so that her gloved hands and unprotected face went slap straight into it.

She struggled up onto her hands and knees, panting and gasping. Looking behind her, she saw a pair of large round eyes glaring at them through a gap in the gate, the bull snorting air heavily. Bess barked frantically, crouched with her front paws low and her hindquarters high in the air.

‘Are you all right?' Ben squatted beside her.

‘I'm fine. Just … filthy.' She tried to wipe the hair from her eyes with her dirty gloves, knocking a big glob of muck from her nose as she did so.