The House Keeper, page 5
She huffed a laugh. If Cody’s mother knew about her, what she’d done, what she was, she’d have reason to be so protective. Maybe with mother instincts, she could see it in Cassie’s eyes… that she was a wrong ’un. Toxic. The word still made her want to cry.
When no bat-wielding mother appeared to chase her away, Cassie climbed into her car and seconds later was speeding from the car park.
9
It didn’t take Cassie long to unpack the car when she got back to Hindon House. ‘Home,’ she said, testing the word. It didn’t seem to fit. But then it wasn’t supposed to be like this; it should have been the two of them, excitedly enthusiastic about this renovation. Richie’s voice, his bellowing laughter, should be echoing around the rooms. There shouldn’t be this strangely unsettling silence.
The unpacking didn’t take long, simply because there was no point in putting anything away. All the kitchen paraphernalia, she left sitting on a counter in the kitchen. The rest she took upstairs to the bedroom she’d use until the lower ground floor was sorted. Months away.
There was so much to do, it was impossible to know where to start. She supposed she could start bringing all the rubbish from the other bedrooms down to the hallway. As soon as the skips arrived, she could clear it out. Instead, she crossed to the bedroom window. It was a pretty morning, blue skies, the odd puff of cloud. In the glare of the sun, the extent of the work ahead of her was clear. She couldn’t see the drive, or the gate, all was covered in greenery. Had she taken on too much? She could have bought a going concern in some seaside town, jumped straight in to being a landlady.
Her fingernail scratched at the window frame. Paint flaked away. Underneath, the wood was rotten. Her eye followed it to the top. It might be repairable rather than needing to be replaced. Or was that false economy? She’d have to see what Cody thought.
She turned, rested her bottom against the windowsill and stared around the room. It was spacious, with high ceilings, ornate coving, and an elaborate ceiling rose. All looked tired and worn.
A bit like how she felt.
Self-pity. It was corrosive. Determined to do something, she went with her plan to start clearing out the bedrooms. Stupidly, she’d moved the junk she’d found in the room she was using to the one next door, and would now need to move it again. Making work for herself, as if there wasn’t enough.
She stood in the doorway and sighed. Perhaps it would be easier to simply chuck everything out the window when the skip arrived. If they could bring it in through the main gates, they could place it right outside.
The change of plan injected her with energy. She’d seen gardening tools in a shed outside the kitchen. Rummaging among the selection of mostly broken and rusty implements, she found a pair of secateurs. It mightn’t have been any good for pruning precious plants, but she thought it would be just the thing for hacking the brambles and ivy that prevented the main gates from opening. She took a shovel with her too and walked the perimeter of the house to the front, then the quarter mile along the weed-strewn avenue to the gate. It was only mid-morning, but the sun was already hot. It would have made sense to have worn a hat, even more to have worn gardening gloves.
Not possessing the latter, she started to work, cutting along the line of bramble and ivy that had crept back around the gate since she’d first pushed through weeks before. It took brute force and persistence rather than finesse and it was satisfying to see her progress. The bramble didn’t give in easily, springing back and jabbing her with thorns. Luckily, the secateurs were sharp enough for the job.
She needed to be able to open both sides of the gate wide enough to allow the skip delivery. It took almost an hour to get one side free – an hour of chopping, wrenching, digging, swearing, and sweating. Cassie leaned on the handle of the spade and calculated it would take her at least another hour to do the other side. Her hands were scratched, bleeding and dirty. She looked down at her blood-streaked filthy clothes and shook her head. The rest could wait till the following day. She had time to make herself look a little more respectable before Cody and the electrician turned up.
She shut the gate over, relocked it and rested the spade against it.
There was no running water in the house. Something she’d have to get resolved as soon as possible. Until she did, she’d have to make do with the piddling supply of cold water in the Portaloo. She grabbed soap, a flannel and towel and did the best she could. Clean clothes made her look almost presentable.
There was a supply of bottled water in the kitchen. She emptied enough into the kettle to make a mug of coffee, then sat to await the arrival of Cody.
The kitchen was her least favourite room in the house. It made her feel uncomfortable and put her on edge. Toni, with her passion for interior design, would probably say there was something wrong with its energy and suggest moving everything around to create balance with the natural world. Cassie wasn’t sure how much she believed in feng shui but if it improved the feeling in the room she’d be all for it.
They couldn’t do much about the ceiling being lower than in the rest of the house but they could change the dismal décor. And when the far wall was knocked down, and the small rooms behind were all incorporated into one big space, it would all feel so much better. First thing she’d do was to get those damn bars removed from those windows.
But that was some time in the future. She found herself sweeping a hand over her arms to dislodge any creepy crawlies, twisting and turning to check for cobwebs, unable to rid herself of the irritating sensation that something was brushing gently over her skin.
Refusing to give space in her head to the idea she was being chased from the kitchen, she took her mug and headed outside. There was so much of the garden she’d yet to explore. She meandered slowly along as she drank, trying to distinguish the weeds that needed removing from plants that needed to stay. This part of the garden probably would have been planted with vegetables at some stage. There were certainly apple and pear trees. Unfortunately, brambles had wound their way around these too.
After a few minutes, she came upon an old brick wall and walked along it to find an opening. She didn’t need to move far to find a gateway, the brickwork on either side crumbling away, the wrought-iron gate that had once hung there now lying flat on the ground, weeds growing through the bars.
She stepped through, curious to see what lay beyond the wall, but she should have been careful and watched where she put her feet. If she had, she wouldn’t have tripped over a rock and stumbled, the mug flying from her hands as she sought to save herself from hitting the ground. The sycamore sapling she grabbed was of little help, slowing rather than preventing her fall. More rocks on the ground. Her head whacked into one. She lay in the shade of the wall, her face half buried in moss and grass, an earthy smell oozing from the soil underneath.
She didn’t move.
10
Dazed, Cassie wondered if she’d died, how long would it be before she was found? Cody would arrive, get no answer and leave, assuming she’d changed her mind, or got held up with those other appointments she’d conjured up to make herself seem important. Her friends would worry. Eventually they might come down, see her car, and find the unlocked back door. They’d go inside and shake their heads to see the state of the place – far worse than she’d admitted. They’d see the deception. And they’d assume it had all been too much for Cassie. They’d wait, and when she didn’t return, they’d leave a note and go back to London.
Her body would begin to decompose. Then winter would come, and rain and frost would break down her flesh until there’d be little left except tatters of material on a skeleton.
She wasn’t normally so morbidly dramatic. When had she changed? If she had to pinpoint one moment, it wouldn’t have been the crash, not even the moment when she’d climbed from the car and seen Richie’s crushed body, his eyes wide and lifeless. No, it would be the moment – frozen in time – when he’d told her he was leaving her. Didn’t love her any more. Didn’t want to be with her. That heart-stopping moment had changed her.
Before that day, she’d been a glass half full kind of person. Nowadays, that glass seemed empty. The negative effect the house was having on her wasn’t helping. Or not the house, as such, that damn kitchen and those small rooms with their barred windows.
She might have stayed lying on the ground, wallowing in self-pity, if she hadn’t opened her eyes and seen a quabble of woodlice heading straight for her nose. The thoughts of the little grey horrors marching into her nostrils had her jerk upright, the sudden movement making her dizzy. She lifted a hand to her head, her fingers moving gently over the graze and the already swelling bump. There was a trace of blood on her fingers, not much, she wasn’t going to bleed to death, but she was going to look a sight.
And ache all over. She shuffled on her bottom, grimacing when she felt yet another rock underneath. Standing, she shook off the bugs and leaves that clung to her legs. Not rocks, she realised, looking around with growing dismay. It was a graveyard. There was a damn graveyard at the bottom of her garden.
There had been nothing in the sales details. Nothing. She wouldn’t have bought it had she known. She didn’t want this memorial to death in her garden. It was macabre. She’d left London… had fled it, if she were being honest… to get away from all the memories, to try to put Richie’s death, and her part in it, behind her. How could she, if death was in her damn garden?
They were unusually small gravestones, some almost obscured by moss and weeds. Her mug had hit one of the taller ones and lay beside it in two pieces. She bent to pick them up, reading the deeply carved inscription on the stone as she did so.
Here Lies My Best Friend, Topsy.
Enlightenment almost made Cassie smile. Topsy was a good name for a rabbit, or perhaps a cat. It was a pet cemetery. She investigated a few more of the stones, hobbling from one to the other. Previous owners had obviously been pet lovers, there must have been twenty or more stones. Most of the inscriptions, worn away by weather and time, were indecipherable. Of the ones she could read, only two mentioned the type of pet that was buried. Sam, a beloved beagle, and Sunshine, a canary.
A pet cemetery, not a graveyard. Many historic houses had something similar in their grounds – it was part of their history. There was nothing at all macabre about it. But if she’d known it might have made her reconsider buying. She stood looking around at the monuments to death and shook her head. There was no might about it. Graveyard or pet cemetery, she didn’t want it in her garden.
She crossed to an entrance on the far side. Two gateways for such a small area seemed excessive. This one, however, was in a better state of repair, the gate still hanging. She went through and closed it over – it immediately swung back against the wall. She left it there and turned to look back over the cemetery.
It made sense to have this gate fixed and the other crumbling entrance bricked up. She’d lock the gate, allow brambles and weeds to take over. Over time, the stone markers would be further eroded and she could pretend the cemetery never existed.
Death and pretence, who knew they could go so well together?
With the two halves of the broken mug in her hand, she headed back to the house. She was almost there when she heard an engine, and seconds later Cody’s car pulled through the rear gate.
‘Hi,’ she said when he climbed out.
His response wasn’t the standard ‘Hi’ in return. He stared at her in concern. ‘What the hell happened to you?’
She lifted a hand to her forehead. It hurt. ‘Do I look a state? I fell over one of the gravestones in the pet cemetery.’ She made it sound as if it were perfectly normal to have a burial ground in her garden, as if she’d known about it all the time. Maybe he did because he didn’t look surprised.
‘You need to be more careful.’
The implied criticism irked. As if she’d been dancing around the wilderness like a hapless fool rather than tripping over a gravestone she hadn’t realised was there. Ignoring him, she turned to the passenger who’d climbed out and was standing silently by the car.
‘You must be the electrician,’ she said. ‘Tom, isn’t it?’
‘That’s it.’
There was an awkward silence as if the two men were waiting for Cassie to say or do something. Be hospitable perhaps. ‘Can I get you both a coffee or tea? Or there’s mineral water.’
Cody’s eyes settled on the broken pieces she held. ‘If you have another mug, I wouldn’t say no to a coffee. And Tom never refuses food or drink.’
The electrician held his hands up. ‘Guilty as charged, but it’s only because he doesn’t pay me enough so I have to eat on the job.’
Cassie gave this the laugh they appeared to expect, then led the way into the kitchen. ‘Since I saw the leak from the bathroom, I’ve been afraid to turn the mains water on, so I’m using mineral water,’ she said, picking up the bottle and filling the kettle.
‘There should be no problem,’ Cody said. ‘Turn it on while we’re here and I’ll check to make sure it’s all okay.’
Cassie wanted to say no, that she’d prefer to wait till she’d decided who to give the business to, that she didn’t really like the idea of his muscling in with his offer of electrician and now plumbing. She really wanted to, but the thought of having unlimited water was too good an offer to refuse. ‘Thank you, that would be great.’
As soon as everyone had their drink of choice, she decided it was time to get into business mode. ‘I’ll show you where the fuse box is,’ she said to Tom. ‘It was the main lights that fused.’
‘I know the company who did the electrical work a couple of years ago. They’re good,’ he said with an emphatic nod. ‘I’m sure it’s all kosher, but I’ll run a quick test to make sure.’
Leaving him with it, she led Cody through the reception rooms, where he spent several minutes checking the mould-streaked walls. ‘Nothing that can’t be fixed,’ he said.
It seemed to be his attitude to any problem. She hoped it showed his experience rather than an indication that he made little of every problem.
In the first bedroom, she sighed at the mess of rubbish and old furniture. ‘As soon as I get a skip, I’ll be able to start clearing all this stuff out.’
Cody bent to lift a small broken table. He looked at it briefly before shaking his head and dropping it. ‘Doesn’t look as if there’s anything worth keeping.’ Ignoring the rubbish, he shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and looked around. ‘It’s a lovely spacious room though. Even taking a chunk out to make an en suite, it’ll still have generous proportions.’
‘Yes, that’s what I thought, and all the rooms are of similar size.’
The final room to show him was the attic space. A narrow stairway led to it. Cassie had opened the door to look inside on her last visit, but that was as far as she’d gone. Too narrow to walk up side by side, once more she led the way, stupidly conscious of the silent man walking behind.
‘I’m hoping to put another bedroom up here,’ she said, pushing the door open. There was a light switch on the wall inside – she slid her hand down the wall and pressed it. ‘It’s jammed to the rafters with all sorts of stuff. I’ll have to go through it all, see if there’s anything worth keeping or if it’s all just junk.’
Cody came through the door behind her, forcing her to take a step forward. She’d half turned to speak to him when she felt the floor give beneath her feet.
11
Cassie’s first thought was that it wasn’t her day. Her second that accidents came in threes, so she’d better watch out. And her final one was to wonder how much this was going to cost to fix.
‘Bloody hell,’ Cody said. ‘Don’t move.’
Even if she could have done, she wouldn’t – the floor below had high ceilings. If the fall didn’t kill her, it would certainly break something, possibly several somethings. Her right leg had gone all the way through the floorboards, and she was wedged at an awkward angle. ‘I’m not sure I can anyway.’
Cody used his foot to test some of the surrounding boards until he was on the other side of the damaged floor. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Cross your arms, I’m going to pull you out.’
She had no option but to trust that he knew what he was doing, but when the simple movement of her arms made the floor creak ominously, she couldn’t help it, she squealed. Before she had a chance to speak, to ask if he was sure this was going to work, she felt his hands slip under her arms and grab her wrists. Suddenly she was free. The temptation to turn in his arms and hug him was too much to withstand. ‘Thank you. Oh my God, thank you.’ If she’d been there on her own… it was the second time within the space of a few hours that she’d had the same thought. She’d been alone since Richie’s death. In London, with her friends dropping in, and neighbours within shouting distance, it was easier. Here, she wasn’t so sure she could cope. Had it been sheer obstinacy that had made her follow the dream she and Richie had had, a determination to have the life he’d tried to deny her? She no longer knew her motivation.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ Cody said. He held her away from him. ‘Step where I step, okay?’
She couldn’t trust herself to do more than nod. Then they were back out on the stairway. ‘Probably best not to go back in there until you’ve had the place assessed,’ Cody said. He pointed to the ceiling. ‘There’s a damp spot there. I’m guessing water is getting through the roof. It might only be in one place, but it’s better not to risk it.’
Cassie didn’t need to be told twice. ‘I suppose I’m lucky that the weight of the stuff stored there didn’t bring the whole lot down.’
‘The rot would have spread, and that’d have happened eventually. You’ve been lucky.’
Lucky? The house and the damn garden had attacked her. The broken floorboard had torn her jeans and scratched her leg. It stung. So did the graze to her forehead. And every part of her ached. She’d have liked to have rested her head against the wall and wailed.
