She stirred, almost reluctantly opening her eyes, not wanting the serenity to end, hoping to find it was real.
But the 'presence' vanished with the awakening.
'Cameron?' she said again, and even though there was no reply, the wonderful peace was not completely gone.
Eve sat up and looked around as if expecting to find her son somewhere in the room with her. But the room was empty of any other person. Nothing had changed.
Except the photograph of Cam on the nearby table had fallen on the floor.
It lay on its side, supported by the strut at the back, and Cam's eyes seemed to be looking directly into her own.
And although his photograph drew her attention, she was aware that there was something else different about the high-ceilinged sitting room. That odd aroma still scented the air and she now recognized the smell. It was the sharp reek of carbolic soap; it was all that was left of the dream.
16: CHESTER
'Hold on to Chester while I find something to tie him with.'
Gabe rose to his feet, a dark damp patch on the knees of his jeans where he had been kneeling on the wet grass. He hung on to the dog's collar until Loren took over.
'Good boy,' she said soothingly into the animal's cocked ear. 'Nothing to be frightened of, is there?' She wrapped an arm round Chester's neck.
Gabe shook his head in bemused irritation. He'd tried to coax their pet up to Crickley Hall's front door, but the dog wasn't having it. The more Gabe pulled, the more Chester squatted on his haunches and dug his paws into the turf. Gabe couldn't understand the mutt's fear. Sure, there wasn't much that was homely about the Hall, nothing comfortable about it, but it was just a house, stone, mortar and timber. Maybe Chester was picking up vibes from Eve, who seemed to think Crickley Hall was haunted. Wacky, maybe, but Gabe didn't want to argue with her; his wife was still in an ultrasensitive state. Which was why he had promised to find somewhere else to rent if she hadn't settled in after two weeks—no, one week now. He was sure she'd change her mind once she got rid of the idea that there were ghosts in the place. But in the meantime, what to do about Chester?
Gabe and Loren had found the runaway half a mile up the lane, heading for unknown territory. He had stopped by the side of the road when Gabe and Loren drove up, his head high and eyes bright as though he recognized the Range Rover. And there had been no problem in getting him to hop up onto the back seat, his short-haired stumpy tail wagging happily, responding to Loren's hugs and kisses enthusiastically. But when Gabe turned the 4x4 around and began heading back to Crickley Hall, Chester had become agitated again.
Gabe had to pick up the dog and carry his skinny quivering body across the bridge and then he had to drag the mongrel by his collar across the lawn towards the house's solid front door. Chester had protested all the way, his brown eyes bulging. Gabe had reluctantly taken him back to the oak tree where the swing hung, holding down his exasperation more for Loren's sake than for Chester's; the dog's panic was upsetting her.
'Okay, mutt,' Gabe grumbled, 'let's see how you like being outside all day.'
'Dad!' Loren objected. 'We can't do that. What if it starts raining again?'
Gabe glanced up at the troubled sky and saw the clouds had become dark and threatening.
'We'll have to see,' he told Loren. 'You keep him calm while I go look for something to tie him with.'
He left daughter and dog by the oak, Loren's grip on Chester firm but loving—she was whispering sweet nothings in Chester's ear—and strode towards the battered-looking shed that stood some distance away from the house, bushes on the rising gorge behind it brushing its flat roof. There was no padlock on the door's locking arm and it opened with hinges squealing and bottom plank scuffing the ground.
The interior smelt of dust and damp. It was shadowy, its only window so badly smeared by weather grime it was virtually opaque. He could make out what looked like well-used gardening tools—a rake, hoe, shears and other implements—hanging from the wooden wall opposite the window, and a couple of plastic sacks that may have contained fertilizer or weedkiller, or both, resting on the stone floor, while at the back, behind a lawnmower, an old Flymo hover-mower leaned on its side against the wall, its rotor blade missing. On a shelf above the hooks was a petrol can (gasoline, to Gabe) and a half-sized chainsaw, probably used for trimming tree branches and cutting up logs for Crickley Hall's fires. There were also cobwebs, plenty of cobwebs, dusty nets draped from corners and ledges. The shed needed a good clean-up, which Gabe thought he'd probably do himself rather than ask old Percy who, no doubt, was too used to the dirt to notice. Many gardeners were like that.
Gabe spied what he had been looking for: a length of rope dangled from a shelf hook at the far end of the row. Moving round the lawnmower occupying the centre floor space, he unhooked the rope and carried it back to the daylight coming through the open door. The rope was thin and almost black with dust, but it was long and strong enough to serve his purpose. After scraping the shed door shut and pushing the slot of the locking arm into the metal hasp, he returned to the oak tree where Loren and Chester were waiting.
Loren frowned as Gabe threw one end of the rope round the tree trunk and deftly caught it when it came round the other side. 'It's wicked, Dad,' she complained, holding Chester closer to her.
'Can't be helped, Slim,' Gabe responded, feeling only a little guilty. 'If he won't come into the house, this is all we can do. If we left him untied, he'd scoot again. We don't want to lose him, do we?'
'But we can't leave him out all night.'
Gabe tied a knot so that the rope was looped securely round the tree. He knelt beside Chester and slid the free end through the dog's collar. As he tied another knot, he said, 'He'll wanna play house after he's spent the rest of the day on his own. You hear me, mutt.' He playfully poked Chester's ribs. 'You want company again, you gotta learn to love Crickley Hall.'
'He'll get soaked if it rains.' Loren clung to Chester more fiercely.
'If it rains, I'll haul him inside and if he howls or whines he goes down to the cellar. I don't like it much myself, Loren, but it's the only solution.'
Gabe took his daughter by the elbow and brought her unwillingly to her feet. She stroked Chester's head a few more times before following her father towards the house. When they both looked back, Chester was standing stock-still, his tail in the air, watching them as if expecting their return. Gabe put his arm around Loren's shoulders and gently urged her on.
'Chester's gonna be okay. Wait and see—he'll decide life indoors in comfort and with good company is a lot better than time alone, trussed to a tree.'
'But why doesn't he like Crickley Hall, Dad?' Loren's voice was woeful.
'Well, I guess he'd rather be in his own home, like the rest of us,' he told her. 'Being somewhere strange gives him the jitters. He's a jumpy kind of mutt anyway, always has been.'
If Loren was satisfied with the reply she wasn't saying. She walked alongside Gabe in silence, a troubled look on her young face. He wondered if he'd been wrong in bringing his family down here to Hollow Bay. Hell, even the dog hated it here. But Gabe thought he'd been acting for the best: the anniversary of Cam's disappearance would soon be on them and Gabe hadn't wanted them all—especially Eve—to face it in the house where their son had been born and raised, and where there were so many heart-stabbing memories of him.
Father and daughter bypassed Crickley Hall's main door, Gabe tapping on the kitchen window as they walked past, Eve turning round from the table where she and Cally were setting places for lunch. She gave Gabe and Loren a short wave and a smile.
The door to the kitchen was unlocked, as Gabe knew it would be (irrationally, some impulse deep within Eve caused her constantly to leave the front door of their London house unlocked as if she were afraid that Cam might suddenly appear only to find himself locked out), and they stepped inside, stamping their boots on the thick doormat to shake off loose rainwater and mud. To Gabe's surprise, Eve was still smiling.
'You found him easily enough,' she said, having watched Gabe tether their wayward pet to the tree from the window.
'Yep,' agreed Gabe as he shrugged off his reefer jacket. 'Way up the hill, heading for the city lights.'
To his further surprise Eve gave him a peck on the cheek, and then did the same to Loren. There was a sudden brightness to his wife that had been absent for a long time. Puzzled but pleased, he studied her face with some confusion.
