Encounters (2 page)

‘Yes.’ He paused. ‘Yes,’ he repeated with conviction.

She frowned. Her emotions were sending her conflicting signals. There was something achingly familiar about his eyes, his mouth, his hands; something so familiar that, she realised suddenly, she knew what it was like to have been held in his arms and yet he was a stranger. She turned away abruptly. ‘Perhaps we met when we were children or something.’

‘Perhaps.’ He smiled enigmatically. ‘Who did you come to visit? It obviously wasn’t me.’ There was a trace of wistfulness in his tone.

‘We came to look at the house.’

‘Oh?’ He stopped, gazing down at the grass. ‘Interested in history, are you? It must have been lovely here, before they moved us in.’

Victoria smiled. ‘Your family have lived here for a long time, have they?’

‘My family?’ He looked at her in amusement. ‘No, my family don’t come from here.’ He stepped down onto the soft soil of the flower bed and picked a scarlet rose bud. ‘Here. For you. It goes with your dress.’ He held it out to her. As she took it their fingers touched and the electricity which passed between them left them both for a moment confused. She slipped it behind the pin of the brooch she was wearing.

‘Thank you.’

He was frowning. ‘You’re wearing a wedding ring.’

She looked down at her hand, startled. ‘Yes.’ She bit her lip. ‘My husband is here. He was looking round upstairs. I ought to go and join him, really.’ She hesitated. She couldn’t bear the anguish in his eyes. ‘He was injured too – in the Falklands. He’s out of the army now.’ There was another long silence. ‘I can’t remember your name,’ she said at last.

‘It’s Stephen.’ He said it almost absent-mindedly, ‘Stephen Cheney.’

The name meant nothing to her. Nothing.

‘May I go and bring Robert to meet you?’ she asked after a moment.

He was staring at her again, leaning heavily on his stick, his eyes intense. The silence between them was tangible. It stretched out agonizingly. Then at last he spoke. ‘You and I were lovers once,’ he whispered, ‘in a land, long ago.’

She went cold.

For a moment they were both silent, stunned by what he had said, then he laughed. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. It’s a quotation. At least, I think it is. If not it ought to be. Perhaps I’ll write it myself. Yes, go and fetch your husband. I’d like to meet him.’

Victoria turned and walked slowly back across the grass towards the door into the house. She stopped as she put her hand on the handle and turned to look back over her shoulder. He was standing watching her. Jauntily he raised his stick in salute.

She let herself into the cold corridor with a shiver and ran to the stairs. ‘Robert? Are you up there?’

‘Here. Come and see this.’ His voice was distant. ‘This place is really weird,’ he went on as she found him in the end room. ‘Look at these –’ He broke off. ‘Victoria, darling, what is it?’

For a fraction of a second she hesitated, then she threw herself into his arms. ‘Oh, Robert!’ She buried her face in his shirt, clinging to him. ‘Robert. Where have you been?’

‘Only up here.’ He steadied himself with difficulty and pushed her gently away from him. ‘Victoria, what’s the matter?’

‘Nothing.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s the matter with me. I was suddenly so afraid I was going to lose you.’ She could feel it again; the terror; the pain; the dread. It spun around them in the air.

He laughed. ‘No such luck, Mrs Holland. You’re stuck with me. How was the garden?’

‘It’s beautiful.’ She had to be outside again. She couldn’t bear to be inside another minute. ‘You must come down and see it. I met one of Lady Penelope’s guests. He said he’d like to meet you.’ She knew she was gabbling.

‘I thought what’s-his-name said the house was empty.’

‘He obviously didn’t realize. It doesn’t matter.’ She glanced round again, at the long empty corridor and the silent rooms leading off it and she closed her eyes, trying to stave off the overpowering feeling of unhappiness which swept around her. ‘I saw Stephen’s nurse up here from the garden. Did you meet her?’ The air was stuffy; no windows were open. There was no music. The upper floor echoed with emptiness.

‘A nurse?’ He looked puzzled. ‘No, there’s been no one up here. No one at all.’

They both glanced over their shoulders.

‘That’s strange.’ She bit her lip, trying to keep her voice steady. ‘When I was out there, I could hear music. The windows were open …’

‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘You must have been looking at another part of the house. Come on, I’ve seen enough.’

‘We’re not going to buy it, are we?’ Suddenly she minded terribly. Irrationally, she wanted the house. She wanted it as she had never wanted anything before.

He shook his head. ‘It needs too much money spending on it, I’m afraid and it is far too large for us, you must see that. Sad, though. It’s a lovely place.’

She bit her lip. ‘I want to live here, Robert. I must live here.’

He stared at her and something in her eyes alarmed him. He was swamped by a sudden sense of foreboding; he could feel the cold coming at him from the walls, threatening to overpower him. Somehow he forced himself to smile; somehow he kept his voice calm. ‘Well, let’s see the rest of the place, then we can talk about it some more.’

At the foot of the stairs she put her hand on the door handle. ‘Come and see the gardens. They’re so lovely.’ Her fear had subsided as quickly as it had come. It had been an irrational, silly moment. She pushed at the door and frowned, rattling the handle. It seemed to have locked itself.

‘Here. Let me.’ Robert shook it hard. ‘You are sure it was unlocked?’

‘Of course I’m sure. It must have latched.’ He could hear the rising panic in her voice again.

‘Never mind, Victoria darling, it doesn’t matter.’ He put his arm round her, pulling her to him. ‘We can walk round the outside before we go.’

Victoria moved away sharply from his strangely alien embrace and with a little sob she turned and ran down the passage.

Robert stared after her in astonishment and fear, then slowly he followed her.

William was waiting for them in the main entrance hall. ‘Ready to go upstairs?’ He glanced at them surreptitiously. They both looked agitated; uneasy.

‘Why not?’ Robert followed him towards the staircase.

‘What did you think of the west wing?’

‘Not a lot,’ Robert smiled tightly. ‘What on earth happened to it?’

‘The house was used as a nursing home during the first war and they used that wing for the operating theatre and wards for the worst injured men.’ William glanced at Victoria who had gone white. ‘When the family moved back in about 1920 they left it as it was. Just closed the door and pretended it wasn’t there until they forgot about it. And I think each successive generation has done the same since. Did you see the stretcher poles? They always give me the creeps.’

‘So that’s what they were.’ Robert shuddered. ‘Something I know a bit about.’

‘It’s an unhappy place,’ Victoria put in quietly.

William nodded. ‘I suspect a lot of young men died here. Luckily the rest of the house seems unaffected. I wouldn’t let it worry you.’ He didn’t give them time to react. Turning, he led the way up the broad unlit sweep of stairs. Halfway up he stopped. ‘Mrs Holland?’

Victoria was standing where they had left her. Her face was drained of colour.

‘The nurse. Stephen’s nurse. She was wearing some sort of big white head dress …’

‘No, Victoria.’ Robert limped back down the stairs towards her. ‘I know what you’re thinking. Just stop it. What you saw was a real nurse. A modern nurse. She probably saw me in the distance and decided to go back downstairs.’

William was frowning at them from the staircase. He felt a shiver touch his spine. What had she seen? One of his colleagues from the firm had seen something when she had stayed to lock up after showing some people around a few days before. That was why she had refused to come this morning. ‘You can deal with that place,’ she had said. ‘I’m not going there again!’

He glanced at Victoria. ‘What happened?’ he asked cautiously.

‘I met someone in the garden, that’s all.’ Victoria said. ‘A house guest of Lady Penelope’s. He’s been in some sort of accident and he has a nurse to look after him. I thought I saw her in the window upstairs, that’s all.’

‘Lady Penelope said the house would be empty.’ William swallowed hard.

‘Well obviously it isn’t.’ Suddenly Robert was impatient. ‘Let’s look round upstairs, quickly, then I think we should go.’

Hastily they trailed through the main bedrooms of the house, through the bathrooms and the guest rooms. The only one showing any sign of occupation was Lady Penelope’s own. There there were piles of books by the bed, a bottle of aspirins and some spare reading glasses. The other rooms were all neat and impersonal and unused. There was no room obviously allocated to Stephen. Or his nurse. Victoria felt a pang of disappointment. His face, his voice were still with her. It was as if for a few short moments he had been a part of her.

‘So. That just leaves the gardens.’ William had escorted them finally back to the kitchen via the second staircase. Checking the door into the west wing, he noted that the bolts were all firmly closed. ‘As you probably noticed when you came in they were once very beautiful. With some care and attention they could bloom again.’

He led them back to the front door and down the steps. The sun was high, beating on the gravel with the white reflective heat more commonly associated with a Mediterranean afternoon than with an English countryside, even in August.

They walked slowly round the south side of the house and wandered across rough uncut lawns, through untrimmed hedges, an overgrown vegetable garden and between rampant woody herbs. The garden was very silent. It was too hot for birds. The only sound came from the bees.

Beneath the cedar tree on the western side of the house they stopped. Victoria looked round expectantly. Then she frowned. ‘I don’t understand. I thought it was here I saw Stephen. It was near this tree. There were rose beds full of flowers and the house was painted on that side, and the windows were open. There must be another tree like this …’

‘No.’ William shook his head firmly. ‘There is only one cedar.’

‘But we were standing there, by the door …’

They all stared at the door into the west wing. It was boarded up.

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ve got confused. It must have been another door. There were rose beds, and a bank of hollyhocks and a garden seat, and the grass was short. There were daisies everywhere. And music. Music coming from the open windows. He picked a rose for me.’ She hadn’t realized that her voice was rising.

William swallowed. He shivered again.

She had the rose in her hand. It was a deep damask red. Several small thorns still adhered to the stem and as she held it out to Robert one pricked her. A fleck of blood appeared on her thumb. ‘It didn’t mean anything. He just gave it to me. It was a silly gesture.’ She could feel her eyes filling with tears. ‘I … I’ll go and look. There must be another part of the garden we didn’t see. The other side perhaps. Somewhere …’

Before either of the men could say anything she began to run, ducking through the thick laurel bushes which edged the grass onto the gravel of the drive.

William looked at Robert, embarrassed. ‘We have been all the way round the house, Mr Holland. There are no other gardens. There are no rose beds. Not now.’

Robert laughed uncomfortably. ‘Perhaps she fell asleep and dreamed it all. In this heat anything is possible.’

Slowly they walked after her. Both men were thinking of the rose.

‘There isn’t anyone else staying here, Mr Holland,’ William said after a moment. ‘Lady Penelope rang us this morning to say she’ll be away another week. She wanted to check we were locking up properly. She said the house was empty.’

‘Victoria, this is crazy. You can’t go back there. I’ve told the agents we’re not interested. And that’s that.’ Robert threw down the paper. Pushing his hands into his pockets he went to stand in front of the open window, trying to hide his despair.

Since the previous weekend she had not let him touch her. She had been tense, edgy and tearful and obsessed by the house.

‘I can and I’m going to. I’ve already rung Lady Penelope. And I’m going on my own, Robert.’

He stared at her. ‘You’re mad.’

‘It will only take me a couple of hours to drive over there and back. She’s asked me to have a cup of tea with her.’

‘But why? Why go? I’ve told you. We can’t afford it. That house is going to go for more than we could pay. Be reasonable, Victoria.’ He turned to face her desperately. ‘I don’t understand you, darling. What’s happened to you?’ She was a stranger.

She shrugged unhappily. ‘I don’t know. It was meeting Stephen. I have to find out who he is; where I knew him before. I can’t get him out of my mind …’

You and I were lovers once, in a land, long ago.

She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to rid herself of the echo of his voice, the image of his clear, grey eyes.

‘OK. Go then.’ Robert threw himself down onto a chair. ‘Who was he? A boyfriend? You fancied him, did you? He was younger than me, I suppose; not crippled? Are you in love with him?’