No Mercy by jane brindle Readers who know me as JOSEPHINE COX often ask why I write under two names. Both the JOSEPHINE COX and JANE BRINDLE stories are drawn from the tapestry of life. They are about ordinary people with dreams and aspirations. People with loves and fears and longings of one kind or another. They are stories of pleasures and regrets, of deceit and friendship. Stories of ordinary and extraordinary people, of a kind that might live iown your street; people you have known forever, or you've only just met; people you think you know, then realise you don't know at all. People who fill your lives so completely you would not know how to live without them. relationships. Emotions. Situations that bring out the best and the worst in all of us. This is what I write about in both the JOSEPHINE COX and JANE BRINDLE stories. So why the different names, you ask. Since time began, there are things far deeper than first magined. Wicked, dangerous things, to create evil and nay hem in any one of us the dark side. These are the sinister stories. As a child, and for reasons I can't say here, I suppressed many frightening feelings. These have now surfaced in the JANE BRINDLE books. Many JOSEPHINE COX readers enjoy the JANE BRINDLE books. Yet because there may be others who don't wish to delve into that darker side, I was ibliged to keep them separate. JANE BRINDLE is my not her name. Also by Jane Brindle from Headline Feature The Seeker The Tallow Image Also by this author, under the name of Josephine Cox Queenie's Story Her Father's Sins Let Loose the Tigers The Emma Grady Trilogy Outcast Alley Urchin Vagabonds Angels Cry Sometimes Take This Woman Whistledown Woman Don't Cry Alone Jessica's Girl Nobody's Darling Born to Serve More than Riches A Little Badness Living a Lie The Devil You Know A Time For Us Cradle of Thorns Miss You Forever HEADLINE Copyright 1992 Josephine Cox The right of Josephine Cox to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. First published in paperback in 1992 by Warner Books Reprinted in paperback in 1995 by Orion Books Ltd First published in this paperback edition in 1998 by HEADLINE BOOK PUBLISHING A HEADLINE FEATURE paperback 1098765432 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. ISBN 0 7472 5754 X Printed and bound in Great Britain by Mackays of Chatham PLC, Chatham, Kent HEADLINE BOOK PUBLISHING A division of Hodder Headline PLC 338 Euston Road London NW1 3BH CONTENTS Part One THE FOLLOWER 1 Part Two THE STRANGER 21 Part Three IF ONLY . 231 PART ONE The Follower "The night was dark, no father was there The child was wet with dew. The mire was deep, and the child did weep And away the vapour flew. " William Blake CHAPTER ONE /T}on't cry, Ellie . please don't cry. " Looking up at his LJ sister with blue, soulful eyes, the boy shifted himself along the car seat and slid his small hand into hers. For a warm April afternoon, his fingers were surprisingly chilly. His voice, too, had a cold, disturbing edge to it. '/ hate her!" he said, his gaze reaching beyond Ellie, to where the man was knelt in the grass, his head bent low and his lips moving in a whisper, as though he was taking part in a secret conversation. For a fleeting moment, the man's eyes strayed back to the two huddled figures in the car. He smiled, but it was merely a kind gesture designed to comfort them. Yet it brought only pain to his watching children, for the smile never reached the man's eyes dark, familiar eyes that were still haunted and confused. "Hush, Johnny." Ellie squeezed the boy's fingers lovingly. "Please don't say that... don't ever say you hate her." "All the same, I doV he hissed, his baby blue eyes brilliant and hostile. "Anyway, she never loved me. It was you she loved ... and him." He nodded his head in the man's direction. "She never wanted me. I heard her say it. " "You're wrong, sweetheart. Mother did love you." She, too, had heard her mother say on at least one occasion, that Johnny had 'been a mistake'. Ellie had often wondered at the age gap between her and Johnny, but whenever she broached the subject to her mother, Marie, her questions were coolly received. Then why did she tell Daddy that she wished I'd never been born? You answer me that. " "She was ill. We know that now. Don't think about the last few weeks, Johnny. Think about before ... when she was well. When she made us laugh, and sang you to sleep ... when she kissed you and loved you better than any woman could ever love her son. Think of those times, sweetheart. Don't dwell on the bad times." For a moment, Ellie was lost in her own thoughts. Strange how no one had realised how disturbed their mother had grown. Strange, and unforgivable. Yet, how were they to know, when only two days before it happened, they were all opening their Christmas presents, bubbling with happiness and making plans for the New Year. Only, when the New Year came, she was gone. And by her own hand, or so they said. Even now, almost four months on, the whole, terrible thing seemed so unreal. "You know she adored you, Johnny ... deep down, you do know that, don't you?" Ellie pleaded, her strong amber eyes tenderly bathing his face. He was so wrong, she thought, so very wrong. But then, he was only nine, and had seen things that no child should see. Not for the first time, Ellie wondered if he would ever recover from his experience. For a long, painful moment, the boy glared back at her, his mouth drawn into a thin, spiteful line. Then slowly, his gaze mellowed and he began trembling. "I suppose so," he murmured sullenly, 'if you say so, Ellie. " "And you won't think about that one time when she said something that hurt you ... something she didn't mean?" The tears tumbled down Ellie's face. She missed her mother so much. Johnny saw her crying. It angered him. "All right." His voice fell to a whisper as he added, "But it's too late now. You mustn't cry, Ellie." He tugged at her. "There's nothing we can do to bring her back ... nothing any of us can do. It's too late, don't you see? It's too late." Something that sounded like a sob broke from him. Yet, when Ellie glanced down, he was smiling. "But, it'll be all right now," he told her, nestling so hard into Ellie's side that she winced. "I won't let any harm come to you, though ... you'll see, I won't let anyone hurt you!" There was vehemence in his voice. And fear. And something that made her blood run cold. "Bless you, Johnny." Ellie inwardly chided herself and hugged him fiercely. "You make me feel ashamed." She wiped her eyes. "Here am I, going on twenty ... more than twice your age and, of the two of us, you're the stronger." It was true. She had been astonished at her brother's courage, yet it had also crossed her mind how unnaturally calm he had been since that fateful night. It concerned her that he had not shed a single tear. And, though she put it down to her own imagination, Ellie could not rid herself of the realisation that, in unguarded moments, he seemed to be more surly in manner, often spiteful, whereas, before, he had been a bright, busy child, curious and always gentle in his affection. On the two occasions when Ellie had broached the subject with her father, she was told it was not surprising that Johnny had changed. "Don't forget it was the boy who found her, Ellie. A thing like that will stain his memory for a very long time to come. But, he'll be fine he's young, and strong-minded. You know what the doctor said, Ellie all we can do is reinforce our love for Johnny. In time he will forget, I promise." Ellie was reassured by her father's confidence. And when, some weeks ago, he had broken the news to them that he had been offered a post as caretaker of a listed building in the south of England, Ellie agreed that a 'new start' was exactly what they all needed. She didn't mind leaving college. Her mind had strayed from studies anyway, and things were not going too well with Bamy. Oh, she still loved him, but she needed a little time to think. She needed a breathing space, away from the pressure of college, and a measure of distance between her and Barny, at least for a while, might do more good than harm. She did love him. There was no one else; there never had been. Right from that first moment when Barny had screeched his battered old van to a halt after driving it through a puddle and splashing her from head to toe, she had been drawn to him. She liked the way he fussed over her and the charming, if frantic, manner in which he had apologised. "Like' quickly turned to love over the ensuing months, when they spent every spare moment together; arguing, making-up, fighting and laughing like all lovers do. After the tragedy, the laughter disappeared, and there settled between them a terrible quietness. The shock of her mother's death, and the awful manner of it, festered between them until it became an unbearable threat to any future they might have had. She could no longer give herself to him. He understood, but bitterly resented the situation. It got to a point when they would meet, only to sit in an unsettled silence in his van, neither of them knowing what to say or how to repair the damage that was tearing them apart. In the end, regretfully, Ellie had finished it. "We need time away from each other," she had said. And she was not surprised when Barny did not argue. She missed him, though. And, deep down, she knew that he missed her. Jack Armstrong got to his feet. He groaned softly as the cramp gripped his knees. He was not a young man, but neither was he old; it was only six months ago that he had celebrated his forty-fourth birthday. So much had happened since then. So much, that it would haunt him until the day he, too, was called to his Maker. Amidst all the shock and grief, one question had surfaced and remained uppermost in his mind why? "Dear God in heaven ... why?" He raised his face to the sky, his voice soft in prayer. He found no answer. No comfort. No reassurance. Only a deep sense of horror that would not go away. And a terrible instinctive foreboding that had begun long before his wife had had . He could not bear to think on it. He must learn to look forward now, to a new beginning. He had to carve a new life for himself and the children, many miles away from here. A sudden desolation settled on him. In his deepest heart, he was still mortally afraid. On that God-forsaken night when his wife had committed such a heinous act, there must have been wicked, dark forces at work. How otherwise could a sweet and gentle soul enter into so terrifying an ordeal? rhere was something . some awful, crippling thing that had driven her to do it. Turning his head away from the afternoon sunlight, lack Armstrong looked across to where his two children were waiting in the car. His warm, blue eyes sought out Ellie's anxious face. He smiled. How lovely she is, he thought with pride. And how very much like her mother with her strong, amber-coloured eyes and wild, curly hair that tumbled to her shoulders like spilling sunshine. The bitter-sweet pain tugged at his senses. He drew his gaze away. And now, he was looking on the small face of his son. He felt the smile melt from him, and in its place there came a puzzling emotion. For what seemed an age, he continued to gaze on the boy, studying the unruly shock of brown hair and the blue eyes that seemed too brilliant, too vivid, almost unreal. But then, those young eyes had seen too much. The pain and regret stabbed at his heart. Reluctantly, he looked away. Don't punish yourself any longer. " Ellie had seen her Father's suffering. Taking the boy's hand in her own, she had left the car and crossed the neat, pretty churchyard. Deeply moved by his obvious anguish, she urged, in a gentle, comforting voice, " Please . we've all said our goodbyes. Can't we go now? " She tugged at the sleeve of his shirt. "Please." There was desperation in her voice. "Are we doing the right thing, Ellie?" He bent his head to look directly into her eyes. A shock thrilled through him as he realised again how incredibly like her mother Ellie was; small, petite. He always had to bend his head to look into her eyes as well. Regrets for what was lost and for what might have been lacerated his insides. "It's the only way," Ellie promised, 'we have to try. We need to . forget. " The tears threatened. She choked them back. Not in front of her father and Johnny, she thought. Instinctively, she knew they would be looking up to her. She must not let them down. There was a moment of uneasy silence. Ellie could see her father's torment. She sensed that Johnny was also watching him closely. When, presently. Jack Armstrong addressed himself to the boy, saying, "What about you, Johnny... do you think we're doing the right thing?" Ellie felt her brother's fingers stiffen round her own. She waited for an answer. Her father waited. When the answer came, it was not what either of them expected. "I want to go now." Johnny instinctively backed away, his face puckered in disgust and his eyes narrowed as he glanced towards the headstone. "She smells the same! The same as when I found her. I don't like that smell. It makes me feel sick!" "What are you talking about?" Ellie clutched his fingers tightly, drawing the trembling boy to her. There was anger in her voice. Jack Armstrong stepped forward, impatient yet gentle in manner as he asked, "Your mother wore a perfume that you didn't like? Is that what you mean?" When Johnny hesitated, he demanded, "Is it?... Is that what you mean? Hesitantly, the boy nodded. His father was stunned. "But that's impossible, Johnny." Ellie felt her brother's terror. Her voice was deliberately calm. "Mother never wore perfume. Never." Her anxious eyes glanced upwards to see the same disbelief in her father's ashen face. "She didV The boy was frantic, tugging to get away, his eyes wild and frightening to see. "She wore it that night... and she's wearing it now " No! Leave him," instructed her father, 'he'll be all right... he's afraid, that's all." He could have said that the 'perfume' Johnny had smelled on his mother was probably the peculiar stench of blood. He could have warned Ellie that the boy was still reliving the nightmare in his mind and how it was so real that, even now, just standing close to his mother's grave, that same awful stench in his nostrils was just as odious as on that night. Jack Armstrong knew. Because the awful events were a nightmare that he himself was struggling to come to terms with. "We'll help him," he told Ellie now, 'you and me together . we'll get him well, believe me. " And Ellie did. From a short distance away, Bamy Tyler had witnessed the scene between these three people; one of whom he adored. In a moment he had come forward, a warm, pleasant glow spreading through him when Ellie's face lit up on seeing who it was. Disentangling herself from her father's embrace, she ran towards the tall, slim figure that was Bamy, her eager eyes taking stock of how attractive he looked in the open-necked shirt that was almost the same chestnut colour as his thick, wayward hair. He looked much younger than his twenty-six years. "I guessed you would be here ... saying your farewells." He told her apologetically, "I'm sorry, Ellie. I couldn't let you go without seeing you just once more. " His green eyes bathed her face. There was a kind of sadness in his voice, yet it was tinged with hope. "Why don't you stay, Ellie?" he asked, 'or is it that you really don't love me enough? " "Don't, Barny." Ellie felt the frustration rising in her. They had gone over this same argument so many times before. And each time it had ended in ill feeling. "It isn't a question of whether I love you . I do} You know that." "Then stay." "No. It wouldn't work, don't you see, Barny? Things have changed between us. Oh, I know it's my fault. But... I can't think of our future just yet. Trust me ... please." Now she was convinced that she had made the right decision, not to give Bamy the address at their new home; at least not for a while, and maybe never. Suddenly, the fire was back in his eyes. There were times when he understood, and other times when he didn't. Like now. "I'm asking you to marry me, Ellie," he snapped, angrily clasping a hand over the small, trim shoulders and gently shaking her. "I want you for my wife. If you say you love me . then nothing should stop us! " Ellie was taken aback by his outburst. This was the first time 'marriage' had seriously entered the argument. It threw her off balance for a minute. But then, she remembered the tragedy that had marred their lives. In her mind's eye she saw it all. And, for now at least, her answer had to be the same. "I can't commit myself, Bamy. Like I said . I must have time to myself, time with my father and Johnny. Just now we need each other. I couldn't bring myself to desert them. I'm all they have. You must see that? "Yes, I do understand that," he conceded, 'but why must you turn your back on me? I need you too, Ellie. I love you, for God's sake! " Ashamed of the pain she was causing him and unable to meet the accusation in those pleading green eyes, Ellie lowered her gaze to the ground. She was desperately torn in two directions, with her own future happiness tugging her towards Barny's love, and both her conscience and family loyalty insisting that she owed a duty to her mother's memory. That duty called for her to go south, with little Johnny and her father. Maybe, when they were both settled there? When the two of them were strong enough to come to terms with what had happened Maybe then, she thought, she could consider her own future with Barny. In that moment something occurred to her, cruelly smothering her optimism. Sup pose she herself could not come to terms with what had happened? On that December night in 1955, her mother had been possessed by demons. Ellie had never spoken of her awful suspicions, not to her father or Barny, and certainly not to her young brother. It seemed a sinister, unnatural thing to say, she knew that. But then, what her mother had done was far more unnatural, far more sinister. Only a soul possessed by demons could contemplate such a thing. Her brown eyes darkened with pain as the terrifying images stalked her mind. Horrible images of a broken, bleeding body, of her mother's wide-open eyes, that were dead, and yet were not. Images of a once beautiful face, and of the eerie tricks the moonlight played on it. Ellie visibly shuddered. "I don't know if you'll ever understand, Barny," she said in a quiet, trembling voice, "I have to go with them. I must watch over them ... for a while at least." "You say you love me?" "I do love you, Barny." Her heart ached for him; for herself. Then don't do it to us. " He sighed as she shook her head, lowering her gaze to the ground and itching to be gone from the awkward situation that loomed between them. "All right then!" he said sharply, his patience at an end. "Go if you must... but don't expect me to wait forever." He wanted to shake her. To hurt her. To take her in his arms and love her. "Let me come with you. Or at least give me an address where I can contact you." "No." She had to resist. She must keep a clear mind. "But you'll write to me, won't you? Let me visit... spend some time with you?" "Later." She watched his eyes light up, then close in anguish when she added, "Maybe ... I don't know." "Then to hell with you, Ellie! You've made it plain enough where I stand." He stared at her a moment longer, hoping in his heart that she would relent. He wanted her so much it was like a physical pain. Just for the merest heartbeat, he felt the tension relax between them. "Oh, Ellie ... Ellie," he moaned. In a moment, they were kissing. Her warmth against him was like a heady wine, stirring his senses and flooding him with hope. The moment was dashed when she pulled away. "I will write," she murmured. "Soon?" "I hope so." Ellie saw that he was about to plead once more. She put a gentle finger to his lips. "Don't... please," she warned. "Give me the time I ask for. I don't want to promise anything beyond that." He took her hand in his. "How much time, Ellie? For God's sake ... how long am I to wait?" "I don't know. I'm sorry, Barny... but they're ready. I have to go now." "I will find you, Ellie ... I willY " If you do, there'll be no future for us. " She glanced towards the car. They were watching, waiting. "Goodbye, Barny." She reached up to kiss his lips. "I won't hold you to anything," she murmured against his mouth, 'but I do love you. Remember that. " Before he could reply, she hurried away. And though her heartbeat was quickened and the urge to glance back was strong inside her, she vent on at a faster pace, climbing into the car and 'uddling Johnny to her, deliberately forcing Barny from her thoughts. Yet, try as she might, she could not oust him from her heart. Jack Armstrong drove the car out of the churchyard and onto the main road heading away from the town of Blackburn in Lancashire, and taking them to a small hamlet some twelve miles from Medford in the county of Bedfordshire. He wondered whether he would ever come back. He had made arrangements for her grave to be kept neat and tidy, even though there was something repugnant about that. Especially after the way she had . the way. she had . No! It did not do to dwell on such things. They were on their way to a new life. That was what had to be remembered. And only that. He glanced in the mirror to where his children were huddled together. God, they looked so frightened, so vulnerable. A stab of fear shot through him. Things would be all right now he promised himself. A new area, a fresh start and a lovely old house that was steeped in history. A second chance, that's what they were getting. It had to work. He must believe that. There was no reason why life should not begin again for them, was there? What was done, was done. There was no way he could change it. He had better memories, and he had his children. Few men had more. Suddenly his heart felt lighter than it had done for months. He even smiled a little. It would be all right now. rhey would come through. His optimism was pierced amy briefly. And that was when he caught sight of Johnny's sleeping head. The boy. The boy worried him. From her place in the back seat, where she lovingly cradled her sleeping brother, Ellie was also deep in thought. She had seen the ghost of a smile on her father's Peace and was heartened by it. It was like a glimpse of sunshine after a storm. For the first time in a long while, a sense of peace and well-being flushed her heart. But, she did not fool herself. There was still a long way to go before the events of the past could be erased. A loud cry shattered Ellie's thoughts. "Go away! Get away from me!" In his nightmare, Johnny flayed and kicked at the air, fending off someone or something, his face contorted with fear. "Ssh ... ssh, sweetheart," Ellie drew him closer, enfolding him in her arms and brushing her mouth across the top of his head, 'it's all right. " Her words comforted him. Soon, he was quiet again, clinging to her, his slumbers more peaceful. For now. "He'll forget, Ellie ... with our help, he will forget." Jack Armstrong's anxious gaze was conveyed through the mirror to Ellie. "It will be some hours before we arrive at our new home," he added. "I suggest you follow the boy's example . get some sleep while you can. Lord knows there'll be more than enough work to do before we're settled in. " His gaze momentarily mingled with hers. When she smiled, he nodded and looked away. "I've a feeling the place will be in a shocking state of repair." He reached up to tilt the mirror. Ellie could no longer see his eyes. But she could still feel his pain. His anger. Tired as she was, Ellie could not sleep. So many questions invaded her mind. Would Bamy wait for her? She wouldn't blame him if he never wanted to see her again, but she felt instinctively that it was wise to put time and distance between them. That way, they could take stock of their feelings for each other; recent events had put them under so much strain, there was a very real danger they would drift apart anyway. This way, she felt their long-term relationship had a better chance. It was an opportunity, also, for Barny to strengthen his efforts to find his mother. She had abandoned him as a babe-in arms almost twenty-six years before. And ever since Barny had learned that he was adopted, his dream had been to find his true mother. His adoptive parents had emigrated to Australia four years ago. Ellie had never known them because she had known Barny for only a year, but Barny spoke proudly of them all the time. Even in their middle years they were youthful in outlook. Kind, adventurous people. Barny never tired of talking about them. It was obvious that he cared deeply for the couple. But, when they left for Australia, Barny had chosen to stay behind. He was still pursuing the idea of Knding his real mother. All the same, Ellie suspected that he missed them dreadfully, even though she understood he kept in touch by letter. Barny had mentioned to Ellie that maybe, "When we're married ... we could join them .. make mr new life in Australia?" Ellie had been excited at the prospect. Now, she was numb with shock and grief. Closing her eyes, Ellie began to relax; the trauma of the last twelve weeks and more had taken its toll. Weariness crept through her like an incoming tide, washing away all resistance. The welcoming sleep invaded her senses, luling her to quietness, but the questions in her mind would not be stilled. Was Barny's love strong enough to stand the test of time? Was her love strong enough? Would Johnny ever again be free of the nightmares that still haunted him? Would her father find peace of mind in their new surroundings? Would she"! Suddenly, Ellie felt the tears threatening. Resolutely, he forced them down. There had been enough tears shed by all of them. Bitter tears. Sad, angry tears. But for whom? For themselves? For her dead mother? Where did it all begin to go wrong? Ellie asked herself. Why didn't they see it? Why didn't she see it? Surely a daughter ihould know when her own mother was desperately unhappy, or ill, or losing her mind She hadn't wanted that abservation to present itself. But, now that it had, Ellie searched her own tortured mind, recalling, reliving those past few months before . before. No. There had been nothing. Her mother had seemed content, happier than she had been for a long time; looking forward to the birth of her new baby; even teasing Johnny that he would soon have another sister. Johnny had resented that. "I want a brother," he insisted, 'someone to play football with me. " Now, there was no new brother, no baby sister and no mother. In one despicable, destructive frenzy, they had been wiped out for ever. But, the pedlar} Ellie suddenly remembered the pedlar! What about the pedlar? Two weeks before Christmas, Ellie had passed a bedraggled pedlar on the path to the house. Old he was, and bent as Methuselah. He made an odd-looking figure as he went away from the house, furtive and badly limping, the brim of his battered hat pulled low over his forehead and muttering beneath his breath while he agitatedly delved into the wicker basket on the crook of his arm. When Ellie laughingly commented on him to her mother, she was told, "Don't laugh at him, Ellie ... or you might get struck dead!" But Ellie had laughed, chiding her mother for being superstitious. Her mother had not laughed, though. Not on that particular day, nor on many others following, she now recalled. Ellie was deeply curious about the old pedlar. Had he somehow frightened her mother? Oh, but surely not! He was strange, scruffy and somewhat alarming in appearance, there was no denying it. But certainly he could not have done or said anything that might have worried her mother too deeply. Ellie smiled at the idea. How foolish she was, grasping at straws and searching for reasons that might explain her mother's sinister deed. The pedlar's call was just a coincidence, she reminded herself. Because, earlier on the morning of that same day, Ellie had come downstairs to find her mother seated at the kitchen table. the was crying. To Ellie's concerned questioning she had imply replied, "Being a cry-baby is quite normal when 'out time is close .. wait 'til you're expecting, my girl! You'll see what I mean." They had laughed together, and il lie was reassured. Now, her mother's words rang in her houghts like a death knell 'when your time is close', he had said 'when your time is close'. Of course, she never want the birth, Ellie told herself. Of course she did! All he same, Ellie fought off the urge to scream out like ^ohnny had just done, urging the bad things to "Go iway get away from me' Determined to occupy her mind with other, more leas ant thoughts, Ellie reached into her handbag and withdrew a folded newspaper cutting. She wanted leeded to remind herself of the new life waiting for hem. As she unfolded the cutting, she felt cheered. The id vert was still so clear in her mind's eye. Handyman/ Caretaker required to implement minor improvements to a house of historic interest, and afterwards to maintain the house in good condition. Excellent wages and spacious accommodation offered to suitable applicant, who will have experience of house renovation. "here was a box number, but no name or telephone lumber. Ellie's father had shown interest in the advert traight away, as 'house renovation' was his special skill. t was how he earned his living. He had always nurtured i love of historic places. The post seemed tailor-made for him. Half-heartedly, he had written away to the stated ox number, enclosing references and work experience let ails When some time later he was offered the job by post, his enthusiasm grew. He saw it as an omen, a second chance for them all particularly as the house in question was situated in a place called Redborough, in the south of England, some two hundred miles away. That's strange. " Ellie turned the newspaper cutting over and over in her hands. This was not the advert. "What's wrong, Ellie?" Her father tilted the mirror back again, his quizzical gaze searching her face. "The advert ... this isn't the one I cut out of the newspaper." "It must be amongst the paraphernalia in your bag." Ellie delved deep into her bag, spilling its contents onto her lap. "No. It isn't here." She was puzzled. Irritated. "I can't understand it. I distinctly remember cutting out the advert and putting it into my bag!" "Well then, you should be able to find it," her father assured her, spasmodically glancing to the road in front. He sounded anxious, swearing aloud when the rear wheel mounted the kerb and he almost lost control. Ellie was alarmed to see her father growing increasingly agitated, yet at the same time being convinced that she had put the advert in her bag. But she couldn't have done, or it would still be here! "No matter," she said, folding up the cutting and returning it to her bag. "We don't really need it anyway. I hope you remembered to bring the letter of appointment with you, though. You did, didn't you?" She leaned forward, unintentionally awakening the boy. He peered up through half-opened eyes, smiled knowingly, and closed them again. Jack Armstrong laughed. "Don't you trust your old man?" he asked. The smile stayed on his face until he had tilted the mirror back. Then it slid away, leaving a grimmer expression shaping his features. Damn and bugger it! Was he going out of his mind? High and low he'd searched for that letter. Last night, and again this morning. He did not find it! And he could have sworn it was safely put away in the pocket of his jacket. But he daren't admit it to Ellie just now. He felt such a bloody fool! Still, it was just as well that he had made a mental note of where they were going. They would be expected' it had aid in the letter. So, there was nothing lost. No need to worry. But he did worry. And he would. Until they were iafely settled into their new home, Thornton Place. He had located Redborough on the map. It did seem to ? e somewhat isolated. Still, there was no going back now! He had already returned the keys of their rented house to be grateful landlord, who had a string of potential en ants willing to pay a much higher rent. He had accepted a month's wages in advance on his new post. So us bridges were all burned. They were on their way now. there was no place else for them to go. A sense of ietermination and adventure flooded his soul. It was a time for looking forward, not craving for the past. With his renewed sense of purpose, he began softly singing to himself. Ellie heard it and was both astonished and glad. rhey had made the right decision; she knew that now. }nd things could only get better. Please God. fn the pretty churchyard where Marie Armstrong was buried, the air grew clammy; unmoving as the departed who lay beneath the ground. There was no whisper of a freeze, not even the promise of one. Yet, the leaves in the iak tree rustled and moaned, seeming to sigh, "No nercy ... no mercy." Above, the sky was awesome. Like some giant finger had stirred a deep, muddy pool and created a seething, eddying mass. Rising gently into the air came a sickly sweet perfume, aowerful; suffocating. It was the same fragrant perfume hat had driven the boy to panic. "She did wear it," he had :ried, 'she's wearing it nowV It was a warm, lingering scent ? f summer. The unique and sultry fragrance of lavender. Slowly, it pervaded the air, stayed a while, then purposely stole away following . in a southerly direction. PART TWO The Stranger "The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus: Let no such man be trusted. " William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice CHAPTER TWO rrhey had been four, and now they were three. Now they were three, now they were three. "NO... NO!" Ellie's eyes popped open; the scream still echoing in her head. She felt the car jerk to a halt and her father's voice, gentle, soothing. "All right, Ellie. Wake up ... we're almost there." He climbed out of the car and opened the back door. "Come out a while," he told her quietly, 'get some fresh air . stretch your legs. " He made no mention of her scream. It was too like his own. He understood. "Why did you shout, Ellie?" The boy was eyeing her suspiciously. "Did you have a nightmare ... did you?" There was fear in his voice, and wonder. And something much like satisfaction. "Leave your sister alone, son." Jack Armstrong leaned his head towards the car, his dark blue eyes condemning as they searched out the boy's face. Sometimes he suspected the child of being deliberately wicked. "It's all right. Dad." Ellie wiped the beads of perspiration from her forehead. It was a nightmare. But now it had receded, into the depths of darker, safer places. In a moment she was out of the car. Johnny clambered out and stood beside her, pressing himself close to her. She hugged him tight. "Yes ... I did have a nightmare," she confessed, "I'm sorry for shouting like that. It must have frightened you." "No. It didn't frighten me." There was indignation in his voice now. He raised his face to look at her, but in the deepening twilight he could not see the expression in her eyes. Irritated, he kicked at the earth. "I knew you were having a nightmare," he said, "I just knew!" In his heart he was glad. "Where are we?" Ellie looked towards her father, who had ventured away a few paces and was anxiously glancing about. Irritated, he told her that the journey was taking much longer than anticipated, especially as the car was 'not performing at its best'. "But... where are we?" she insisted. "We're lost, that's what!" The boy grabbed Ellie by the hand and tugged at it. "I don't want to stay here. I don't like this place!" "Don't be silly." Pushing down the anger inside her, Ellie added in a firm voice, "You will stay here ... we all will. Because there's no place else for us to go. Besides, Johnny... we haven't even seen the house yet, and maybe this isn't the place at all." She was not too surprised when he twisted away from her and climbed back into the car, slamming the door behind him. She lingered for a moment, unsure as to whether she had been too hard on him. After all, he was only a boy, and he had lost so much. But then, so had she! All the same, it was harder for him. The doctor said he must be reassured, and loved. Ellie felt herself weakening. She felt ashamed. But, at the same time she realised that over these past months both she and her father had gone out of their way to compensate the boy for all he had lost. His answer was to grow more sullen and demanding. Maybe they were molly-coddling him too much. Maybe it was time to make him face reality. He was shouting at her now, "I don't like this place. I won't stay. I won' tV His shouts became sobs. "Leave him be. Don't pamper him." Her father's voice cut sharply through the night air. The darkness was closing in fast now. "Come here, Ellie," he called. Ellie glanced inside the car. Johnny was brooding, huddled in he corner. He turned from her. "Ellie!" Her father sounded igitated. "Is this the place?" Ellie wanted to know, carefully checking her path over the rough ground. "Soon, we won't ?e able to see well enough to find our way." "Look down there." Jack Armstrong explained that while Ellie and the boy were sleeping he had seen a signpost some four miles back. "Redborough... five -niles, it said." He had travelled on for what he calculated was five miles, but had become concerned when there was still no evidence of a hamlet, 'or even a single house! " that was when he had pulled off the main road into this -enough ground. It was a high point. From here, he had loped to see what lay ahead. "Lights ... street lamps?" Ellie was relieved. A double -ow of lights ran in a straight line for a short distance, 5ut then the two rows joined in a half-circle at one and, as though round a cul-de-sac. "Do you think it's Redborough?" She roved her eyes over the area below, looking for other lights; the lights of Thornton Place. But there was only darkness beyond. To the left of the alley there was a dense area. Ellie wondered whether his was a wood, possibly camouflaging the house. She aid as much now, pointing to the area in question. "I don't know any more than you do, Ellie." Jack Armstrong narrowed his eyes to scour the distance. "I don't even know if the place below is Redborough." "It must be," Ellie said, thinking her father looked harassed. As a rule he was patient, easy going except where the boy was concerned. And Bamy. Looking at her at her now, at the weariness that was on him, she allowed or the impatience in his voice. They had come a long way . almost two hundred miles, and they had been ravelling many hours, with only a short stop for fuel and i bite to eat. "Well... there's only one way to find out!" Jack Armstrong dropped his hand to Elbe's shoulder, gently turning her in the direction of the car. "It can't be more than a ten-minute drive to where those lights are .. and there's bound to be another signpost further on." He opened the car door and waited for Ellie to get in. "I've got a feeling that it is the place we're looking for." "And if it is ... why can't we see the lights of Thornton Place? Isn't it only a short way beyond?" "That's what I understood." He shrugged his shoulders. "So, we should be able to see the lights, I suppose." The very same thought had earlier crossed his mind. "But you have to remember that it's going on for ten p.m.... perhaps the present caretakers of Thornton Place are already in bed. They may be fairly old. Or' and he had been churning this possibility over in his mind 'they could even have moved out. Maybe they got fed up waiting for us. They might be bitter because they've been pensioned off and someone else has been appointed in their place." Ellie nodded. It made sense, she supposed. All the same, she was suddenly anxious. "What if that's true ... about them being bitter? Old folk can be very stubborn when they've a mind to. " She had no grandparents now; her mother's father had been the last, and he had died three years ago, but she recalled how cantankerous he had been. "Supposing they've barricaded themselves in? Supposing they won't let us through the door?" Her fears were running away with her. She began to understand why Johnny was so apprehensive. "Nonsense!" Jack Armstrong got into the driving seat and switched the engine into life. "Stop being so dramatic, Ellie," he told her, softly laughing. "Barricaded themselves in ... Won't let us through the door." He shook his head. "For all we know, they might be sick to their back teeth of living in a big, draughty old house ... places like that need a lot of work, I might tell you constant attention. It's no easy thing for a young couple ... let alone an old man and his wife. No! They'll probably welcome us with open arms. " They won't," Johnny's voice whispered into the darkness. He knew they would all be sorry for coming to this place. There was something else too! That perfume ... that sweet, sickly scent... the one his mother was wearing when he found her, then again, in the churchyard. They had not left it behind. It was there when he got out of the car just now. He could still smell it. Now it was here, right here. In the car. It terrified him. It comforted him. A great weariness took hold of his senses, lulling him, until he could hardly keep his eyes open. A flood of relief surged through Ellie when she heard the man answer her father's question. That's right, mate . this 'ere's Redborough. " He was a friendly fellow, stocky and bald, with kind eyes and a jovial countenance. Ellie smiled to herself. It occurred to her that his 'jovial countenance' might be due to the fact that the fellow had just emerged from what appeared to be a Working Men's Club. No doubt he had been enjoying a pint or two of booze in pleasant company; that same 'company' now making its way home in the distance, and singing "Roll Out the Barrel' at the top of its unmelodic voice. "Just a private party." The fellow chuckled when he saw Jack Armstrong glance in the direction of the noise. "Oh, but don't you go thinking that Redborough's a rough kinda place!" he urged, his face becoming serious. "We're a quiet law-abiding community, that we are." "I'm sure you are," Jack Armstrong assured him, 'and no doubt we'll all get to know each other in time. Right now, though, we've travelled a long way and all we want is a meal, the chance to freshen up, and a warm, inviting bed. So, if you'll kindly point us in the direction of Thornton Place . we'll be on our way. " At once the fellow was attentive. "Ah! ... it's " Thorn- ton Place" you're looking for, then? I did wonder. We don't often get folk pulling in off the main road ... more often than not they just drive right on by without a second thought for this place." He bent his back and peered into the rear of the car, looking first at the boy, and then at Ellie. He half smiled. Ellie smiled back. The boy stared him out. "Is it far... Thornton Place?" Jack Armstrong was impatient to be on his way. "What? ... Oh, no, it ain't far." The fellow stretched out his arm, turning his head in the same direction, away from the main road. "Follow this road here ... until you come to the very last house. You'll see a block of garages close by. Just beyond there you'll see a lane well, more like a rough track it is . don't get used much, that's why. But, it's been wide enough for a horse and cart in the past, or a carriage . or a hearse. So, I dare say you'll manage to get this 'ere car along it. Go careful, mind . it's uneven and winding full of potholes. It's not easy to negotiate in daylight, let alone in the dark. " He glanced at the boy again. He was strangely relieved to see that the brown head was lolled to one side; as though in slumber. "How far is the house?" "Not more than two or three miles, I dare say. The track runs level for two thirds of the way, then it begins to climb. Thornton Place sits right atop a hill. You can't miss it." He chuckled. "Or if you do you'll likely end up in the lake!" He grew serious. "You wouldn't be the first, though. No, you wouldn't be the first." He peered into Jack Armstrong's face. He thought it to be a strong face, good and honest. From the man's stern expression, he also suspected a quickness of tongue when riled. "You'll be the new caretaker, I expect... Is that right?" He waited for confirmation before looking into the back of he car again, saying. These your young 'uns are they? " This time he did not wait for an answer. "No missus, eh? Veil, I don't mind telling you ... you'll have your work ut out with that crumbling old relic. And it's no place for children, mate ... no place for children, and that's a fact!" "Goodnight to you. And thanks." Jack Armstrong slid he gear stick into position and the car went slowly away. "Aye, and goodnight to you," murmured the fellow as he watched the car draw out of sight. From the back window, the boy's pale sleepy features glared back at him. n the light from the street lamp, the small eyes glittered ike jewels. The fellow frowned and pursed his lips while he thought hard on the way the boy had stared him out. "Hostile!" he muttered, 'that's what he is. Hostile. Just like he others. God forbid! " Shaking his head, he went on his vav. I can't see no "block of garages" , dammit! " Jack Armtrong nosed the car out of the roundabout for the third time, his temper rising by the minute. "The fellow must have been drunk ... there's no sign of any " garages"!" He topped the car and looked about. The street was ieserted. "It's like bloody zombie land!" he groaned. Ellie didn't like her father swearing in front of the boy. he glanced down at his small, bent form lying crumpled icross the seat. He appeared to be fast asleep, thank goodness, but he was right when he said they would all )e 'sorry for coming to this place'. She was sorry already, and, from the sound of it, her father wasn't exactly 'njoying the experience. It was a long time since she had ;een him in such a temper, although she knew from xperience that he did have a temper. A vile one, at that. Winding the window open, Ellie glanced up and down he street a narrow, lamp lined street exactly the same is the one before, flanked with square, unattractive red-brick houses. There wasn't a soul in sight. Not a dog or a cat. Not even a light burning in any of the windows. Wait a minute, though. There was a figure, a man, leaning against the lamp-post not too far away. So close, in fact, that Ellie's heart jumped with fear. He was looking right at them! Why hadn't she seen him? Why hadn't her father seen him? Strange, she thought. But then, the street lamp threw shadows all around, and the man was tall, slim, seeming to merge with the lamp itself. And he was so still; so uncannily still. He kept looking at them, but he made no move. Now, her father had seen him. The man . against the lamp-post, Ellie. Ask him how we find the way to Thornton Place. " Ellie hesitated. For some inexplicable reason, she did not want to leave the car. The thought of walking even the short distance up that half-lit, silent street gave her goose pimples. Or was it him? Was it the way he just went on staring, not moving? "Ellie!" Her father's voice snapped into her fears. "For God's sake go and ask him which way." Now, the boy's eyes popped open, willing her to go. As Ellie made her way along the pavement, her heart was in her mouth and her every step ready for flight. Still he made no move. Always, his eyes were on her. Now, as she stood before him, Ellie could see those searching eyes. Dark and intense they were and incredibly beautiful, glowing in the soft light, like silken velvet. For a split second, when his gaze first mingled with hers, Ellie was mesmerised. Then she heard her father behind her, impatient. The young man spoke. "Lost, are you?" His voice was low, trembling, enticing. Ellie was fascinated. "My father's the new caretaker at Thornton Place," she explained. "We were told to find the block of garages, and the track would be just beyond." She laughed softly, irritated by the effect he was having on her. "We've been up and down the estate half-a-dozen times. but well. yes . we are lost! " For a moment she thought he had not heard, because he made no response. His gaze never left her face; his handsome features remained still, carved into that sensuous, inviting half-smile. She got the feeling that he was quietly taking stock of her. She also felt his strength. She was astonished to find herself drawn to him. Thornton Place, eh? " He nodded his head as though in approval, and his smile enveloped her. "What's your name?" "Armstrong. My father is Jack Armstrong." "Your name." It was like a command, but, loving. "Eleanor ... Ellie." He gazed on her a moment longer, then, "Tell your father to drive straight on towards the big field ... and the last lamp. He'll see the garages to his left. Follow the track round the back of the garages and keep going straight on. There are no lights to show him the way, and the going is not easy. If he takes his time ... keeps his headlamps full on and his eyes sharp, he'll come to Thomton Place in about ten minutes." "Thank you." Ellie smiled up at him. For a long moment, he held her gaze fast; thinking how lovely she was, with those warm, honest eyes and that air of vulnerability. But not too vulnerable, he hoped, or she could get hurt. He wouldn't want that. Not that. He watched her walk away. So young, so innocent. Already he had taken a liking to her. "Don't stray from the track," he warned. "It's dangerous." As she got in the car, Ellie glanced back. With a stab of astonishment she realised he was gone. She felt a little sad, wondering whether she would ever see him again. Then she inwardly chided herself. He was a stranger! What did she know of him? She didn't even know his name. Quickly, Ellie repeated the young man's directions to her father. As the car pulled away, she leaned forward in her seat, her eyes scouring the road ahead. The sooner they got to Thornton Place, the sooner they could be settled, and get on with their lives. She was angry with herself. She had been too friendly with that young man. Why! He must have thought she was a hussy . going weak inside when he turned his dark eyes on her, and giving him her name for the asking. All the same, the sensation he had created in her would not go away. His eyes were so magnificent. His voice so soft, so invasive. "What else did that man say to you, Ellie?" The boy had come forward on his seat and was trying to see her face. "What do you mean ... " what else"?" Ellie was surprised and annoyed by his probing. "He told me what I wanted to know ... the way to Thornton Place." "You were a long time." "I was not!" His insistence infuriated her. And, even without looking at him, she knew he was staring at her. She resented that. She resented his impertinence. "You were a long time. He liked you, didn't he?" "Your imagination will get you in trouble one of these days, my boy!" Ellie retorted indignantly. All the same, she felt herself wondering whether that was true. Had he liked her? A sense of pleasure rose in her, flushing her face a warm shade of pink. She was thankful that it was dark and the boy could not see. Suddenly, she was thinking of Bamy, and her mood was subdued. Jack Armstrong heard the banter between the boy and Ellie and he had sensed Ellie's embarrassment. More than that, he had suspected that the boy was right. He had seen for himself how the man had gazed down on Ellie's upturned face, how close they had been, and how reluctant Ellie had seemed to draw herself away. It could come to nothing, he was certain. They were strangers, nothing more. Even so, he wondered not for the first time whether he had made a wrong decision in accepting this job and taking Ellie away from Barny. After all, it was obvious that Barny Tyler adored Ellie. Sure, he wasn't perfect; but then, who was? No doubt Barny would have made a good husband and, before the tragedy, everything had been going the right way for Barny and Ellie. Now, well. like everything else, their relationship was in danger of falling apart at the seams. "Stay on the track. Dad!" Ellie was thrown sideways as the car veered to the right. "Okay, don't worry. We should be there any minute." He screwed his eyes up and searched ahead. "There! ... look there!" he yelled excitedly. "It must be Thomton Place. It has to be!" At first, the huge shape was like a shadow in the distance. But as they drove nearer, it became a formidable thing, looming before them like some giant sentry standing astride the top of the hill, its four turrets reaching into the clouds like the fingers of a mighty hand; the whole awesome structure silhouetted against a silver sky and filling the horizon so that everything else seemed diminutive in comparison. Even the gaunt, sky-scraping poplar trees surrounding it appeared like tiny candles around a shrine. "It's horrible!" The boy shrank back in his seat. "You can't really see what it's like in the dark, Johnny," Ellie told him. Secretly, though, she had experienced the very same feelings. The place was huge, frightening. But then she reminded herself it was dark and they were all very tired. No house, however lovely, looked at its best in the dark hours. It wasn't fair to form an opinion without first seeing Thornton Place in daylight. "They haven't gone to bed yet... there's a light on in one of the downstairs rooms." Jack Armstrong manoeuvred the car onto a level area some way from the entrance to the house. The deep potholes and overgrown shrubs prevented him from coming closer. "Watch your step, you two," he warned, 'there's only the light from the window . and the path is a mess of overhanging thorns and loose paving beneath. " He swore aloud when his foot came down on a jutting stone that viciously jabbed his ankle. "First thing I'll do is make sure there's a clear access to the house!" he snapped. "No wonder they've been given their marching orders!" He stamped his feet down, squashing the undergrowth beneath. Ellie followed, the boy's hand tight in hers. The short distance from the car to the front entrance was slow and painstaking. More than once she felt the sharp thorns of protruding branches tearing at her skin. She felt the blood spurt up and begin to trickle. Her father was yelling now, angry, frustrated. "You in the house! ... open up for Christ's sake!" He cursed at the ensuing silence, pushing his body forward, breaking the way until now they were at the foot of the steps, broad stone steps that were already crumbling and pitted with small, deep craters. Running up either side of the steps was a thick, ornate railing of black, barley-twisted design. In the half-light it was plain to see that the iron railings were badly eaten by rust and lolling sideways in a dangerous way. "Don't lean on the railings ... you'll likely break your neck," Jack Armstrong told the two bedraggled figures behind him. "Jesus! How could they let the place get into such a sorry state?" He started up the steps, shouting once more, "You in the house ... it's Jack Armstrong ... the new caretaker. Open up!" "Perhaps they're not in ... perhaps they always leave a light on when they go out," Ellie suggested. She was apprehensive. And she suspected her father felt the same, else why was he yelling like that? The front door was magnificent, with huge panels carved deep into the oak and a crescent of stained glass over the top. There was an old iron knocker in the shape of a floral bouquet and a wide, impressive border etched around the door frame. Long coloured glass insets flanked the door, and above these were two delightful cherub faces, each riddled with decay. "You have a point there, Ellie/ her father reluctantly conceded. "We should have been here hours ago ... it is possible they thought we weren't coming. Yes. They could have gone out." He kicked out angrily, stubbing the toe of his shoe against the wooden rail that skirted the door frame. He was worn out, tired from the long journey. For years now there had been talk of a six-lane dual carriage way that would carry traffic between London and the Midlands, a motorway they said, the first of many. Talk. Just talk! "They haven't gone out!" The boy stared at the lighted window. At the face there. When Ellie and her father glanced up, they saw only the drawn curtains. But the boy had seen. And now he remained silent. Ellie visibly cringed when her father began furiously rattling the knocker. It made enough noise to wake the dead. But there was no response from inside the house; no movement. "To hell with it!" Jack Armstrong slammed the knocker against its base, startling the night creatures who could be heard scampering through the undergrowth. Ellie shivered as the, night breeze gained momentum, sighing and whistling in the tree tops like a soul in torment. Curious, she glanced away from the house and into the distance. "It's beautiful," she murmured, 'look, Johnny . there's a lake. " In the light of the rising moon could be seen a vast stretch of land, dipping away into a valley, interspersed here and there with small spinneys and irregular mounds of what looked like boulders. Nestling at the foot of the valley was a shifting carpet of black and silver water, shimmering like diamonds in the soft moon glow. The boy gazed at the landscape. He made no comment. He had not wanted to come to this place, and he did not want to stay. Jack Armstrong appeared not to have heard Ellie's comment about the lake. Instead, he was stretching his neck, searching for a sign, any sign, that there was someone at home. At length, he told Ellie and the boy, "Well... I've no intention of staying out here all night!" He began frantically searching in his pockets, crying out when he triumphantly produced a tangled bunch of keys. "As from today, I'm the caretaker here. For all I know ... the two of them could have cleared off." He started fitting the keys to the lock, one after the other. "It won't do no harm to wait inside ... make a hot drink .. keep warm. If they have " gone out" for the evening, I'm sure they'll understand. Anyway... according to the letter of appointment, the pair of them have been instructed to move into a cottage in the grounds as soon as they've shown me the ropes." "What will happen to them?" Ellie wanted to know. "If they're not being paid as caretakers ... what will they live on?" She had not seen the letter of appointment. Her father had taken care of all that. "Search me." He shrugged his shoulders and began putting the keys to the lock once more; this time with increased deliberation. "Stop asking questions, Ellie," he told her, irritated that, somehow, he must have missed the key that would open the door. "Sorry," he apologised, '. but it's been a long, tiring day. I expect they'll be found another place to take care of. something smaller and more manageable I should think. Or they might be got rid of. I wouldn't be at all surprised, after what I've seen of this place. If you ask me, they'd be better employed at demolition'. " He seemed surprised when Ellie laughed. Slewing round to look at her, he chuckled in spite of himself. "No matter," he said, still smiling, 'we'll soon have this place ship-shape. " He didn't admit it, but he was really looking forward to tackling this job. It looked a grand old house; proud but ill used. It deserved better. "I'm cold." The boy huddled closer to Ellie. "Don't worry, we'll be inside in a minute," Ellie promised him, wrapping her arm round his small shoulders, 'as soon as Dad finds the right key. " The 'right key' was not found. None of the eight keys fitted either the lock on the front door, or the heavier padlocks which were firmly secured to the back door, and the other two doors that provided access to different parts of the house. Jack Armstrong tried them all. "What are we going to do now?" Ellie and the boy had waited by the front door while their father had circled the house, searching for a way in, and finding the building to be impenetrable. He had been astonished at the size and structure of the house, which, in his expert opinion, was built more like a fortress than any he had seen. The distance from the ground to the window levels was some fourteen feet high, with the walls themselves being constructed of hard, red brick and strengthened intermittently by thick, formidable buttresses; these structures were knitted deep into the brickwork and thrust upwards for some considerable distance. They were impossible to scale. Besides which, the buttresses were positioned in such a way that they would not afford any point of entry into the house. None of the outer doors was at ground level; each was situated at the top of a steep flight of steps. In all his experience of old, historic places. Jack Armstrong had never seen anything like it. He was both shocked and fascinated. Here was a real challenge. He was deeply excited at the prospect of knowing the long history of Thomton Place. He knew also that he would not rest until he had unearthed all its glory, its tragedies, its secrets. He had stood for a long time, staring up at the hugeness of its make-up, cursing it, touching it. It had touched him, also. Beckoned to his heart like no other house had ever done before. He had long believed that a house could possess a personality, a mood, a soul. Maybe take on the qualities of the man who created it. He had never spoken to anyone of this belief, because he knew only too well that there were those who would laugh in his face. But, he did believe in his heart. And, now that he had seen Thomton Place now that he had communicated with it he knew beyond all doubt that he was meant to be here, even though the house had denied him access. Ellie's father had recently suffered niggling doubts about moving far away from familiar surrounds. He had spent many anguished hours kneeling by his tragic wife's grave, talking to her, seeking reassurance, advice, forgiveness. He had found none of these things. Instead, he had grown more afraid and desperate, for himself, for the boy and, most of all, for Ellie. She was so good, so very strong. And she was like her mother. Too much like her mother. Sometimes he would look at Ellie and the memories would come flooding back; good memories, of youth and laughter, and of a love so wonderful that he could feel only joy inside himself. Other times, though, he would see Ellie in the half-light of a lamp's soft radiance, when she might glance up unknowingly and catch him watching her; then her lovely smile would pierce his heart, awakening other emotions in him, and filling him with such bitterness that he could almost taste it! Somewhere, somehow, he had gone badly wrong. He prayed that some day soon, here in this place, he would know the answer. And be at peace with himself. "If there's no way into the house, we'll just have to go back to the car ... wait it out until they get home," Ellie suggested. In a way, she felt relieved that her father had been unable to get inside. She hated the idea of the couple coming home to find strangers waiting in their front room. "You're right, Ellie." Jack Armstrong accepted there was nothing else to do now. "Back to the car, then." He led the way down the steps. "There's a picnic blanket in the wot... you and the boy snuggle up under that. Hopeully, it won't be for too long, eh?" Keeping close in his father's footsteps and clinging tight ;o Ellie, the boy glanced back to the house. He expected ;o see the woman again. He was not disappointed. He glimpsed her small, narrow figure silhouetted in the window. For a moment he imagined it was his mother. In his mind's eye he looked at the image that haunted him; she was small and narrow, just the same. He saw the dark rim son substance . bathing the other figure. Smothering I And that perfume. Lavender. He knew the name, because his mother had screamed it at him when he . innocently brought home the pretty blue flowers given to him by the old pedlar. It was a shame, because they had such a lovely, kind of floating scent. But she hated them! She told him never to bring them near her again. And he lever did. But, there was something he could not under- it and If she hated the perfume so much, then why was he wearing it when he . when he . found her? Why was she wearing it today in the graveyard? And even low, it was in the air, right here at Thomton Place. Johnny glanced back once more before the shrubbery losed in around him and hid the figure from sight. Yes. It was still there. Was it really his mother? Now, he could lardly see for the overhanging branches. He looked away. He knew there would be another time. And, curiously, he was not afraid. CHAPTER THREE It was a glorious morning. Even before Ellie opened her eyes, she heard the birds singing. The sunlight streaming into the car touched her face, warming her, causing her to blink as she raised her head to look out of the window. A slight groan escaped her as she straightened her back. It had been a long, uncomfortable night. Glancing at her watch, Ellie saw that it was not yet 6. 00 a. m. Careful not to wake Johnny and her father who appeared to be sound asleep, she quietly opened the door and eased her way out of the car. Somewhere from the vicinity of the house the shrill crowing of a cock shattered the stillness. After that, there was only a deep, brooding silence. Ellie looked into the horizon, scanning the green rolling fields that seemed to stretch away endlessly before tumbling down to the lake. She gasped with astonishment at the beauty of the landscape. Last night, in the light of the moon, it had a special magical quality, dark and mysterious. Eerie, even. But now, in the brightness of morning, there was something about this strange land that was far more enchanting. The shifting clouds created trembling shadows across the fields, making them seem alive. And the sunbeams dancing on the water seemed to twinkle a welcome to Ellie. Going on tremulous steps towards the lake, she felt inexplicably drawn there as though to the arms of a friend. Suddenly, Ellie was made to stop in her tracks. There was something, someone, in the spinney! Laughter. She could hear laughter! And furtive whispering. Now the laughter again, like children at play. She listened. No. It was too early in the day for anyone to be loitering in the spinney, she assured herself. It must have been the wind sighing. The breeze pursued Ellie, ruffling her hair and making the hairs on her skin stand on end. The ground was more uneven beyond the spinney. Ellie found herself stumbling, yet still she went on. She had to. "Ellie!" Her father's voice came like the crack of a whip through Ellie's pleasant mood. She stopped and turned round, astonished that she had strayed so far from the house. She could see its monumental turrets rising high above the trees. The sight gave her a degree of comfort. Now, her father was rushing towards her. "What possessed you to go wandering off like that?" he demanded, slowing to a walking pace as he came nearer. Ellie could see that he was angry. She felt the urge to rebel against him. Then, almost immediately, she was ashamed. Whatever was she thinking of? What was the matter with her? She felt strange; as though events were careering out of her control. "I was worried, Ellie." Her father was facing her now, his dark blue eyes clouded with anxiety. "You mustn't go off on your own like that!" he chided her, 'at this hour of a morning . in a strange place. How in God's name was I supposed to know where you'd gone? " "Sorry, Dad." Ellie thrust her two hands deep into the pockets of her skirt, her voice full of contrition. "I didn't think ... and I didn't want to wake you both." "Don't do it again, Ellie. Don't ever wander off like that... at least, not until we know the area ... and the folks hereabout." He hated the way he sounded like an over-possessive father, but, somehow, that awful sense of impending doom still had not left him. He was being bloody foolish, he told himself. All the same, none of hem really knew what they'd let themselves in for here. Jntil they did, it was wise to be cautious. "I've been to the louse ... and the cottage. I thought you might have gone here." He laid his hand on her shoulder and gently propelled her along. "Is there anyone home yet?" she wanted to know. "Did fovi see anyone . have you been inside the house?" So many questions. Her apprehension betrayed itself. "I've neither seen nor spoken to a living soul," he said, shattering her hopes. "As soon as I woke and found you ^one, I ran to the house and called. When there was no sign of you, I fled to the cottage." He was still out of breath, and afraid for her. "Don't stray again," he warned. And as for getting inside the house . He glanced down it her and shrugged his shoulders. "You saw for yourself hat the keys did not fit." "Couldn't you smash a window ... climb in?" Her heart sank when he shook his head. "Waste of time ... even if I broke a window ... threw a brick or something here's still no way I could get up high enough to climb hrough." He stretched out his hands in despair. "I hate to idmit it... but I'm beat, Ellie. The way I see it, we'll just have to wait for someone to come back to the house. surely to God they can't have just left'. They'd be bound to eave a note pinned to the door ... explaining." He shook his head again, lapsing into deep thought. After a while he murmured aloud, "I don't understand! Why won't the '