Echoes on a Cornish River, page 12
‘That’s good,’ Ellinor says. ‘I didn’t feel at all uncomfortable discussing my ideas with him. In fact, Graham encouraged me to think outside the box and Simon will be surprised at what we’ve come up with.’
‘Judging by what you described the other day, I think he will be very surprised!’
‘Hopefully, in a good way.’
‘Well, if not, just remember … it’s wise to keep our respective significant others on their toes!’ Pippa laughs.
As two women with a young child approach the stall, Pippa gets to her feet and soon she’s describing the farm and the orchards to a spellbound audience. The interaction pays off, culminating in the sale of four bottles of apple juice and the promise that the women and their families will visit the farm for a day out during the summer. Lifting the lid off the moneybox, Pippa slips their payment into it before sitting down again.
‘Pippa …’ Ellinor ventures.
‘Yes?’
‘I know you were living in London at the time you met Ian, but where did you grow up?’
‘Kent. My family have a small farm near Rye.’ Pippa gives her an inquisitive look. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘It’s obvious you love the countryside, and I wondered what your background was. All I knew was that you worked in IT.’
Pippa snorts. ‘Out of necessity … although I’m eternally grateful that it brought Ian into my life. London was expensive and IT work paid the bills. My parents spend their lives trying to make thirty acres work for them.’ She pauses thoughtfully. ‘What with the contrary British weather and the dependence on healthy animals, it’s always been tough, although it was a brilliantly unencumbered upbringing. My folks are total optimists and real troupers, and they instilled in us kids that you never get anywhere without putting in a bit of hard graft.’
‘I think they’ve passed on more than that,’ Ellinor says. ‘Boundless enthusiasm and a passion for nature and the environment.’
‘What do they say? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.’ Pippa gives a deep-bellied laugh. ‘Pun intended!’
Ellinor smiles, hesitating briefly before asking the burning question. ‘So, do you have other family living in Kent?’
‘My sister didn’t go far. She settled in Canterbury with her solicitor husband. My brother is in Edinburgh with his partner.’
‘What about cousins?’ Ellinor strives for a casual tone.
‘Cousins? A few, although Dad’s sister’s offspring are all high-flyers and work in finance, in some form or other. They all gravitated to London at the earliest opportunity, but most are now dispersed around the globe.’
Ellinor cuts to the chase. ‘Do you have a cousin called William?’
Pippa pulls a bemused face. ‘Why do you think I have a cousin called William?’
Concentrating on the floor, Ellinor says feebly, ‘I thought I’d heard you mention a cousin by that name, that’s all.’
‘No.’ Pippa frowns. ‘How odd! I wonder why you thought that.’
‘I must have misheard.’
‘As far as I’m aware, there are no members of the wider family called William. Oh, heads up!’ she says in a loud whisper. ‘Customers incoming.’
Ellinor looks up and smiles at the approaching group, but as she rises to her feet, discontent niggles. William is simply a figment of her crazy, mixed-up imagination.
She must be going mad!
Twenty-One
It’s Sunday afternoon and Ellinor and Simon relax in the snug, sitting together on the familiar, battered leather sofa that Ian had originally bought for his flat. The thick walls of the old farmhouse keep the inside temperature cool, and the wood burner is lit. Laid out on the coffee table are the architect’s amended drawings for the cottage’s new layout.
‘What do you think of the design?’ Ellinor asks her husband.
‘Terrific,’ he replies. ‘I like the glass extension.’
Ellinor smiles. It’s good having Simon with her again, and feeling unusually at peace with the world, she automatically snuggles up to him. ‘It sits well with the stone cottage, doesn’t it? Light will flood in through the floor-to-ceiling windows in those rooms.’
Delighted by her gesture of closeness, Simon places his arm around Ellinor’s shoulders.
‘Hopefully, there’ll be light flooding into our marriage again as well.’ He turns to face her. ‘And I can’t wait for that, Elli.’
She wishes he hadn’t drawn attention to the difficult emotional waters they currently navigate, and despondently she fights the urge to pull away. Since her husband’s arrival thirty-six hours before, their time together at Comfort Wood Farm has passed easily enough and she has almost forgotten her hesitation whenever he wraps her in his arms. But any physical contact not initiated by her still triggers the horror of being trapped and held against her will.
‘I hope so, too,’ Ellinor says, quietly extricating herself from his hold and hoping he won’t be offended.
‘I know so, Elli.’
She smiles uncertainly. How can he be so sure? She can’t promise anything.
All at once a cool draught swirls around her legs and Ellinor glances up. Strange … the temperature has dropped, but there’s no obvious reason why. The window is closed, but she notices the orange flames suddenly flicker and leap behind the glass door of the wood burner, as if they, too, sense the unusual current of air. The room has grown hazy, as if cloaked in a heavy veil, and suddenly the door opens. Ellinor watches in astonishment as shadowy figures enter – a middle-aged woman and a girl, both wearing long skirts and aprons, and a young man in loose trousers. Their features are indistinct, and all their garments are dull, muted colours.
‘Simon. Who are those people?’
He obviously hasn’t heard her as he continues to inspect the plans on the table. She turns her attention back to the scene playing out in the room.
The figures walk silently towards rustic shelves lining the far wall, that Ellinor hasn’t noticed before. Picking up a platter of fish from them, the woman turns and speaks to the girl, but although her lips move, there is no sound. The girl nods and takes down a couple of loaves from a shelf while the young man lifts a couple of heavy jugs, which are obviously full. But before Ellinor can make sense of what she’s witnessing, as quickly as the figures had appeared, they suddenly disperse into the shadows and disappear.
Simon rises to his feet. Crossing over to the wood burner, he opens the door and throws on another log and immediately the snug returns to its previously warm temperature. He turns back to the sofa.
‘Did you see them?’ Ellinor whispers.
His look is uncomprehending. ‘What?’
‘The people.’
Glancing towards the window, he peers out.
‘Not out there, Si. In here!’
Simon’s eyes widen. ‘Elli, there’s been no one in here apart from us.’
Her gaze focuses on the bare stone wall where the shelves had been. ‘Oh God, I’m going mad!’ Letting out a groan, she buries her head in her hands.
‘What exactly did you see?’ Simon asks, sitting down beside her again. When she doesn’t answer, he carefully prises open her hands.
Ellinor’s stricken eyes meet her husband’s curious gaze. ‘I felt a draught and then the door opened, and a woman, a girl and a young man entered. They took down plates of food and jugs from wooden shelves on that wall over there.’
She points to the exposed stone wall opposite. Apart from a tasteful watercolour of the meandering River Tamar in a wooden frame, nothing else adorns it.
Simon frowns.
‘I know it sounds crazy,’ she says, alarmed by the shrill in her voice. ‘But I tell you, that’s what I saw!’
Simon contemplates his wife with a puzzled gaze. Slowly, he says, ‘If that’s what you saw, then that’s what you saw.’
Suddenly the door opens, making them both jump.
‘Nice and cosy in here,’ Pippa says, as she enters the room carrying a tray laden with mugs and a plate of biscuits and cakes. ‘I thought you might like afternoon tea.’
‘That’s kind.’ Simon folds up the architect’s plans and makes space on the coffee table.
‘It’s a wonderful design,’ Pippa says, nodding to the drawings as she places down the tray.
‘Yes,’ he replies. ‘We’re very happy with the large glass extension.’
‘Wonderful!’ Pippa enthuses, handing them each a mug of tea. ‘A marriage of old and new.’
A shiver snakes its way up Ellinor’s spine and she rubs her arms.
‘If you’re cold, Elli, put another log on the fire,’ Pippa says. ‘Although I must say it feels very warm in here at the moment.’
‘I’m not cold.’ Ellinor smiles weakly. ‘It’s just what you said, a marriage of old and new.’
‘Well, that’s what it is, isn’t it?’ Pippa says, sitting in the opposite armchair. ‘I’m not sure why, but I find it peculiarly satisfying when what’s gone before is incorporated into current-day living. Of course, in your case, you’ll be replicating the old with a new-build masquerading as ancient. Still, if anyone can pull it off, it’s Graham, and Jake and his men. You’re in safe hands there.’ Picking up the plate of biscuits and cakes, she offers them around.
Ellinor declines.
Helping himself to a blueberry muffin and glancing at his wife, Simon asks, ‘Was this room ever used as something other than a snug?’
Pippa takes a moment to consider his question. ‘Well, the farmhouse has changed quite a bit over the centuries, so we understand. This is the oldest part of the house, circa fifteenth century. I’m not sure but I believe the kitchen was where the dining room is now, and as this leads directly off’ – she indicates the snug with a sweep of her hand – ‘it wouldn’t surprise me if this was once a dairy or a pantry.’ She selects a chocolate biscuit from the plate and takes a bite. ‘Why do you ask?’
Ellinor turns to her husband with a triumphant look.
Simon’s eyebrows knit together in a troubled frown. ‘Elli thought she saw some people in here.’ His eyes meet Pippa’s.
‘Oh, I expect they were the ghosts of Comfort Wood Farm,’ Pippa says nonchalantly.
Simon’s eyes widen.
‘You know about them?’ Ellinor exclaims.
Pippa glances at her. ‘We’ve never experienced anything ourselves, but old houses are bound to have the odd ghost or two, aren’t they? I mean, over the past five centuries this farmhouse has seen a lot of change and no doubt weathered many a storm.’
‘So, you don’t know of any specific ghosts?’ Ellinor persists.
Pippa gives her a guarded look. ‘This was the main farmhouse for Cotehele House in the fifteenth century, and I’m sure there must have been occasions when the Edgcumbe family visited. Of course, that was during the time of the Wars of the Roses when many folk from different walks of life took up arms to fight for whatever side they were on. As we learned at the exhibition, Richard Edgcumbe played a major part.’ She glances around the room. ‘I’m sure if these walls could talk, they’d have many a tale to tell.’
Ellinor’s gaze slides across to the charming watercolour gracing the far wall, where she’d seen the rustic shelves full of all manner of wooden, pewter and brass kitchen paraphernalia and crockery.
Am I simply making up these visions from the snippets of information I hear?
What else could it be …?
Twenty-Two
‘Is it that time already?’ Ellinor asks, as she watches her husband getting dressed by the dim glow of the bedside lamp.
‘’Fraid so!’ Simon glances at his watch. ‘If the roads are clear, hopefully I should be at work by eight.’
‘I’ll come down with you and say goodbye.’
‘No need to do that, Elli. You stay nice and warm under the duvet.’
He walks over to the wardrobe and opens the doors quietly. Taking out his weekend bag, he removes a pair of jeans and a couple of sweatshirts from their hangers and places them in it, grabs a few items of underwear from the chest of drawers and gives the room a final check.
‘I’ll give you a ring tonight,’ he says, zipping up the bag and approaching the bed.
Ellinor sits up and holds out her hand to him. ‘Drive safely, Simon.’
Taking hold of her fingers, he drops a gentle kiss on her lips, and when she doesn’t recoil, he smiles tenderly.
‘It’s been a great weekend, Elli. I just wish we had longer together.’
‘Me, too,’ she responds.
Ellinor observes as professional Simon takes over, his mind already focused on the next few hours. It never fails to amaze her how easily he switches from playful to professional in the blink of an eye.
Grabbing the handles of the bag, he heads towards the door. ‘See you in five days,’ he says softly, before silently exiting from the room.
Ellinor listens to the sound of creaking floorboards as Simon makes his way along the landing of the slumbering household. It’s dark, but then at three in the morning what else would it be? Slipping out of bed, she crosses over to the window and draws back the curtains. A moon rides high in the night sky, casting an eerie silver light over the landscape. She opens the old casement and gazes down, as her husband steps out from beneath the covered porch, located immediately below the window. Like a burglar, stealthily he crosses the stone-chipped courtyard to his vehicle. The click of the car doors as they unlock is shockingly loud in the quiet of the night and Simon glances back at the house. Seeing his wife standing at the open window, he blows her a kiss before opening the driver’s door and climbing in. As the car’s powerful engine starts up and the vehicle edges its way across the yard, Ellinor wonders how many other people over the centuries have left the farmhouse in the dead of night, and what were their reasons for doing so?
As the Audi’s taillights disappear down the drive, she casts her eyes around the courtyard. The farm buildings are silhouetted by the strange, eerie light and dark shapes play amongst the shadows, and tease the senses. Her gaze comes to rest on the nearest barn and there, perched at the edge of the hayloft, is the barn owl silently observing her. Ellinor holds her breath. Unhurriedly, it spreads its wings before launching to glide between the buildings across the courtyard.
Beautiful … If not a somewhat ghostly apparition against the gloaming!
Closing the window, Ellinor quickly returns to the warmth of her bed and blessed sleep.
Some while later, a sharp knocking sound brutally jolts Ellinor into wakefulness and as the door flies opens, incomprehension and disorientation swamp her.
‘Eleanora, get dressed!’
She stares in bewilderment at the figure in the doorway. Why is Pippa calling me Eleanora and why is she wearing a long dress? It is Pippa … isn’t it? She peers at the woman through the gloom and sees the face of her cousin’s wife, though she is dressed very unlike Pippa.
‘What time is it?’ Ellinor asks.
‘Daybreak.’
When has Pippa ever demanded that she get up at daybreak? Since arriving at Comfort Wood Farm, she’s been encouraged to keep her own time and come and go as she pleases.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asks, suddenly gripped with the notion that something may have happened to Simon.
The woman enters the room. ‘Richard Edgcumbe and his men are on their way here. We must attend to them.’
Ellinor’s eyes widen. Richard Edgcumbe? Pippa has never referred to a friend or acquaintance by that name. In fact, the only time she’s heard it mentioned was when they visited Cotehele and again, yesterday, when they’d sat in the snug having tea. But that Richard Edgcumbe existed in the fifteenth century.
This has got to be a dream … Or a nightmare!
Ellinor doesn’t move.
Letting out an impatient sigh, Pippa crosses to a wooden chest at the side of the room and gathers up several garments draped across it. Unceremoniously, she dumps them on the bed.
‘Get dressed, Eleanora, and be quick about it. We must be ready and not keep them waiting.’
As Pippa hurries from the room, Ellinor casts her eyes wildly around. The bedroom seems familiar … and yet not. As her eyes grow accustomed to the gloom, she becomes aware that the matching oak wardrobe and chest of drawers no longer dominate one wall. Instead, a heavily carved wooden chest and a chair are in their place. Throwing back the covers, she’s shocked to find that not only is she naked – where’s the T-shirt gone that she usually wears? – but also the duvet has turned into a linen sheet, a blanket, and a reversible coverlet. And as Ellinor swings her legs over the edge of the mattress, she’s surprised to find that the floor is further away than expected. Turning back, she stares open-mouthed.
What’s happened to the king-size bed that matches the other furniture in the room?
This bed is no more than a small double with a tall wooden headrest, beneath which a bolster supports a pillow covered by a small, crumpled sheet. Ellinor’s gaze swings over to the window where sunlight seeps around the edges of a closed wooden shutter.
And where are the curtains?
Crossing over to the window, she opens the shutter and stands back, aghast. Gone is the diamond-paned leaded window. In fact, there’s no glass in the frame at all, just several misshapen wooden uprights … like the bars of a cell.
‘What the f––?’ she exclaims with a shudder.
If she closes her eyes, she’s sure the room will return to normal once she opens them again. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she wills the familiar surroundings to re-emerge.
‘Breathe, Elli. Don’t panic,’ she soothes.
But on tentatively opening one eyelid, she quickly closes it again.
‘Don’t you dare have a panic attack,’ she growls. ‘Not now!’
Opening her eyes fully, she forces herself to take deep breaths.
