The Darkest Hour (69 page)

They were sitting round the lunch table, drinking their coffee as the rain rattled against the windows and poured off the roof, splashing on the terrace outside. Dolly had made them a casserole and left it in the fridge for them after promising to come the next day to meet Tony. Time enough, she said. In the meantime she would stay away to let them get to know him better and let him get to know Evie’s home.

Mike had collected Tony from London and Lucy was there to meet them when they arrived. He walked slowly and stiffly up the front steps and into the sitting room where he stopped and looked round.

‘There are no pictures,’ he said. His face had fallen.

‘No.’ Mike helped him into a chair. ‘That is a long story.’

‘There is one, Lucy added. ‘I brought it over this morning. I’ve hung it in the studio for now.’

He smiled. ‘I remember. You said your husband bought it.’

Lucy nodded.

Tony studied her face for a moment. ‘How strange. Fate is sometimes very cruel but in this case she seems to have relented at the last moment. I am so pleased. Can we go and see it?’

Lucy glanced at the window. ‘It’s pouring.’

Tony pushed back his chair and stiffly climbed to his feet. ‘Don’t you have umbrellas in Sussex?’

The studio was dark as the thunder rolled ever closer. Mike closed the door behind them then reached for the light switches. Lucy had hung the picture opposite the door, where one of the spotlights focussed directly on the canvas. Leaning on his walking stick Tony stood staring at it for a long time. Glancing at his face Lucy saw there were tears in his eyes.

‘I remember her doing this. It seems to have been in the wars,’ he said at last. He cleared his throat. ‘It’s been torn.’

Mike looked towards Lucy, not sure what to say. ‘It seems to have had a few adventures,’ he said at last, his tone guarded. ‘As far as Lucy can make out Eddie sold it in about 1942.’

‘He took it without Evie’s knowledge,’ Lucy said. ‘According to her diary she found out later he took it to a man called David Fuller and asked him to paint you out.’ She scowled. ‘I’m sorry. Perhaps you would rather not know all this.’

Tony shook his head. ‘On the contrary. I want to know every detail,’ he said firmly.

‘David Fuller ran an art gallery in Chichester which sold a lot of Evie’s early works. Ironically it is the same building that Larry and I bought to run as a gallery ourselves. The whole thing seems to have been destined in some strange way.’ She took a deep breath and went on, ‘Eddie seems to have asked David Fuller to paint you out and you stayed out until my husband Larry, started to clean the painting seventy-odd years later.’

‘Then I owe your husband a debt of gratitude. Without him you would never have found me and given me back my grandson.’ Tony gave a grim laugh. ‘Eddie would not be happy about any of this. He didn’t like being thwarted.’

A flash of lightning cut through the room followed by a loud crash of thunder. The lights flickered uncertainly and went out.

Lucy stepped closer to Mike. ‘That is truer than you know,’ she murmured.

Tony had stepped nearer the painting. ‘So, how did it get torn like this?’

‘Eddie did it,’ Lucy whispered.

Tony turned and fixed her with a stern look. ‘Tell me how.’

She opened her mouth but no sound came out.

‘It sounds mad,’ Mike put in. ‘And you probably won’t believe it, but it’s Eddie’s ghost. He seems not to be resting in peace. Far from it.’

They both watched Tony. He had stepped forward again and was peering closely at the canvas. ‘In which case this storm seems rather apt. Clichéd even,’ he said dryly. ‘Are we about to receive a visit from the demon king, do you think?’

Lucy shivered and felt Mike’s arm round her shoulders. ‘It’s not a joke. He’s real. A real ghost. I shouldn’t have brought the picture here. He haunts the picture. I’m such an idiot. I didn’t think.’ She reached into her pocket for her phone. ‘Oh my God, this is awful! I’m going to ring Huw, he seems to be able to hold him at bay. Please, let’s go back into the cottage,’ she said nervously.

‘You two go, Lucy,’ Tony said. ‘I myself would rather enjoy the opportunity to tell Eddie Marston what I think of him. I have waited a long time for this. The man was a bounder; he was a bully and a cheat then and it seems to me he still is. Besides which he tried to murder me.’

Another low rumble of thunder reverberated round the shadowy studio.

‘I can smell oil paint,’ Lucy murmured. The room was suddenly full of the cloying scent of turpentine.

Mike pulled her close. ‘Please, Tony. He’s dangerous. I think we should leave this to the professionals.’

Tony swung round. ‘And you think I’m not a professional? Not a ghostbuster, maybe, but this man is mine! You say he made my Evie’s life a misery, he was unkind to your father, Mike, and he tried to kill me! If anyone is going to rid the world of his wraith it will be me. If he’s got the nerve to show himself.’

Another flash of lightning sliced through the studio. Lucy gave a little whimper.

‘Come on, Eddie!’ Tony called. ‘Are you too afraid to appear now you know I’m not afraid of you? I’ll come after you if I have to. That’s the great thing about being my age. I’m not afraid of ghosts; I’m not afraid of dying!’

‘Tony!’ Mike cried. ‘There is something we haven’t told you.’ He glanced down at Lucy, who was huddling in his arms. ‘Evie killed him.’

‘What?’ Tony turned round to face him.

‘Not on purpose – at least, I don’t think so – but she pushed him down the stairs.’

Tony let out a shout of laughter. ‘That’s my girl! Can you smell her paints? Her hair always used to smell like that. Turpentine and linseed oil. I loved it. Even on the farm when she was working with the animals she smelled of the paint; she used to get it under her fingernails.’ He turned round slowly. ‘Well, Eddie? Where are you? Let’s see you.’ He rapped his walking stick on the floor.

‘We’ve never seen him here,’ Lucy said. Her voice was husky. ‘We thought it was so completely Evie’s he would never haunt it. He wouldn’t dare.’

‘Is she here?’ Mike whispered. ‘If you can both smell her paint. Perhaps she has come to see you, Tony –’ He broke off as another lightning flash illuminated the studio. It was followed instantaneously by a huge crash of thunder.

They all saw the figure standing near them as more lightning flickered on the walls.

It was Evie.

‘Something is happening at Rosebank Cottage.’ Maggie greeted Huw as he opened the front door and shook his jacket free of rain. ‘Lucy rang me. That’s where Eddie went. Come on. We have to get there!’

Huw allowed himself to be pushed back into the rain. He had only just driven in and behind him the car bonnet was steaming gently under the force of the downpour.

She dived into the driving seat. ‘Get IN!’

Huw ran round and let himself in beside her as she was already reversing out of the drive. ‘How was Christopher?’ she asked curtly as she pulled away. ‘Come on!’ There was another car in front of them, making its way cautiously up to the crossroads.

‘They have kept him in for the time being.’ Huw had gone to the mental health unit with Christopher and their doctor, where Christopher had voluntarily admitted himself. ‘He seems a defeated man. I spoke to Frances on the telephone. She and the children are safe in Scotland. It is terrible. It seems the police had been to see him. They think he paid the man who ran Laurence Standish off the road. He wanted the portrait of Evie and Tony destroyed. He doesn’t seem to know why himself, but Frances says it was Eddie bullying him, making him act out of character. Watch out!’ He clutched at the dashboard as Maggie braked and swerved past the car in front. ‘Did Lucy say what was happening at Rosebank?’

‘No, but she sounded desperate.’ She slowed the car and turned onto the main road. It was awash with rain. The sky in the west was zigzagged with lightning.

‘Christopher has admitted forging the codicil to Evie’s will, leaving all the paintings to him. He has promised to return them to Mike. He’s stashed them all in a lock up somewhere,’ Huw went on. He was hanging on the hand hold.

Maggie frowned, leaning forward to try to see better through the streaming windscreen. ‘Hold them in your prayers, Huw.’ She indicated right and slowed, trying to see a gap in the traffic.

Huw was groping in the pocket of his wet waterproof, trying to get hold of his mobile phone. He extricated it at last and stabbed at the buttons. ‘I’ll try Lucy again. And Michael. Find out what is happening. One of them must pick up.’

But the numbers rang and rang unanswered.

Maggie pulled in right beside the gate and threw herself out into the rain. ‘This way. They’re in the studio.’

Huw followed her and he could feel it now: an ice-cold stillness in the heart of the storm. He felt for his crucifix, as usual worn discreetly under his jumper. It was warm and solid and reassuring.

He pushed open the studio door and stood there staring into the darkness, aware of Maggie beside him holding her breath. For several seconds they were unable to see, then another flash of lightning lit the space. Eddie Marston was there, and in front of him they could see a tall elderly man who appeared to be brandishing a walking stick. There was another figure there too, shadowy, near the wall where the portrait hung. It was a woman. It was Evie.

Maggie and Huw stared from one figure to the other. Lucy and Mike appeared to be clinging together near the doorway but they were outside the drama being enacted in the centre of the studio in front of the torn portrait on the wall. Every second Evie was becoming more solid. The three figures were locked in some kind of duel.

‘My God, it’s Tony,’ Huw murmured. He had seen the old man’s face as he moved towards Eddie. It was the face of the young pilot in the picture, seamed with seventy years of memories.

‘May God blast you to hell and keep you there forever!’ Tony’s voice was still strong. ‘You failed, Edward Marston. As you were always destined to fail. Slicing my face out of an oil painting is not going to help you. I am here. And I am still alive and now everyone knows the truth you were so anxious to hide.’

He stabbed at Eddie with his stick. The stick passed right through the figure. Tony laughed. ‘Didn’t feel it, eh? I am sure God can arrange something you can feel. I’ve been a judge in my lifetime, Eddie, and I’ve sent a good many rogues down for what they’ve done but if the time has come to refer you to a higher court, so be it!’

Huw stepped forward and cleared his throat. ‘That is probably where I come in.’ He raised a hand and made the sign of the cross. ‘I still don’t know if you believed in God in your lifetime, Eddie, but now will be a good time to find out the truth of our Lord’s mercy. You seem determined to haunt everyone you ever wronged and to be regarded as evil personified. It is for God to judge that. May God bless you, Eddie, and take you to himself so that you can release your attachment to this world. May you be forgiven for the harm you have done to your family. Leave your grandson Christopher and his family alone; leave Mike and Lucy alone. Step back and allow Tony here the memories of his love. Allow Evie her freedom at last.’ He paused, summoning a strength to his voice which he didn’t know he possessed. ‘Leave now, in the name of God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit!’

For a long time nothing happened. Eddie seemed frozen. Immobile, he was staring now at Evie, devouring her with his eyes.

‘Go, Eddie,’ Huw said quietly. ‘She is not yours and never was. You know it. We all know it.’

For a moment Eddie reached out towards Evie. She didn’t appear to see him. Her eyes were fixed on Tony. Eddie’s hands clawed at her, pleading, trying to catch at her, to hold her. She ignored him.

He stood for a while gazing at her and then at last he turned away. He stared for a moment at the portrait and raised his hand as though to strike it but his hand brushed though it without touching the paint. The shadowy figure that was Eddie was wavering, growing less distinct. His face was dissolving as they watched.

‘He’s going.’ Maggie mouthed the words silently.

Oblivious now of what was happening to Eddie, Tony’s eyes were only for Evie as she stepped towards him and held out her arms. Dropping his walking stick he gave a small cry, and reached out for her. For several seconds they hugged one another, desperately clinging to each other, then slowly she began to fade and Tony was left alone. He staggered forward and almost fell, tears pouring down his face.

Huw and Mike reached him together.

‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘I’m all right. She’ll wait for me. I’ll see her again. She knows I have to have time to get to know you, my boy.’ He clung to Mike for a moment then painfully slowly he straightened and looked round for his stick. Lucy stooped and retrieved it for him, gently folding his hands over the handle. No one spoke for a long time.

As a rumble of thunder in the east signalled the departure of the storm, the lights came back on. Tony managed a grin. ‘Life with my new family is obviously never going to be dull,’ he said. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

Back in the cottage Mike lit the fire. As the storm had tracked away across the Downs the sky had cleared and the sun appeared out of the bank of cloud, sending shafts of warm light over the countryside. Lucy brought in the attaché case and opened it for Tony, putting it on a low table beside him near the fire. He picked up his letter to Evie with shaking hands and turned the envelope over and over.

‘I can’t believe she never got it. It never occurred to me. I suppose I was so afraid she was going to turn me down that when I didn’t hear from her that was what I assumed.’ He stroked the envelope sadly.

In the kitchen Huw and Maggie were making a pot of tea. Lucy heard the sounds of washing up in the background but she couldn’t drag her eyes away from Tony’s face as he reached into the case and brought out the ring. Mike too was watching him. No one said anything for a long time. At last Tony looked up.

‘You should have this, Michael. If it had been your grandmother’s it would have been what she wanted. When you find the right girl you can give it to her.’ He glanced at Lucy and winked. She froze, feeling her cheeks colour with embarrassment, remembering all too clearly how she had clung to Mike out there in the studio, how right it had felt as he put his arms round her. It was several seconds before she dared to look at him. She found he was watching her in amusement.