“This is the real deal, not a photo,” Len said. He seemed truly excited to see what was left of the church.
“I’ll come with you, if you don’t mind,” Yvonne purred.
“Great. Let’s go after breakfast. Are you an early riser, Yvonne?”
“I’ll be down by seven. I intend to start working by nine.”
“Works for me,” Len said.
“Were the Ashcombes titled?” Anna asked Alastair, returning to their earlier conversation. “Was anyone murdered in this house?” Clearly, she was using this as an opportunity for research.
“They weren’t titled, but they were wealthy and influential. And no, I don’t believe anyone was murdered, but you never know with these old families. Lots of skeletons in the cupboard,” Alastair said, winking at Anna. “Are we to expect Murder at Lockwood Hall to hit the bookshops after this visit?”
“You never know, my good man. You never know,” Anna said, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
After dinner, which was superb, we all moved back into the sitting room. Several more bottles had appeared on the sideboard and everyone was in good spirits, talking and drinking as if we’d known each other all our lives rather than just a few hours. At one point, Alastair came in to draw the curtains. The night outside had turned cold and dark, rain lashing against the windowpanes.
“I hope it doesn’t rain all night,” Len said sulkily. “I don’t want the water to cover the church tower before I get to see it.”
“Don’t worry,” Alastair replied as he topped up Len’s glass. “It would have to rain for weeks for water to rise high enough to cover the tower completely. It’s been an unusually dry summer.”
“Excellent,” Len said, happy as a child. “Good thing I brought my wellies. It’ll be a muddy walk tomorrow morning.”
“There are several pairs of boots in the mudroom,” Alastair said. “Feel free to borrow a pair if you find one that fits. Well, goodnight everyone.”
That seemed to be the cue for everyone to retire, since the grandfather clock in the foyer had struck midnight some time ago. I finished my drink and set the glass on the coffee table, ready for my bed.
“Goodnight,” I said. “It was a pleasure to meet you all.”
Similar sentiments were expressed by everyone before, one by one, they headed upstairs. It had been warm and cozy in the sitting room, but my room was chilly and dark. A fire had been laid in the grate, but I saw no point in lighting it since I wouldn’t be awake to enjoy it. I changed into my favorite nightie and dove beneath the covers, pulling them up to my chin as the cold sheets leached all the heat from my body. It took me a while to get truly warm.
I should have closed the curtains but was now too comfortable to get back up, so I lay there, gazing out at the pitch-black sky beyond the window. I was tired and more than a little tipsy, but sleep wouldn’t come, my mind teeming with thoughts and impressions.
I’d had fun tonight, and it had felt good to leave reality behind and talk to people who knew nothing about my everyday life. I could be anyone I wanted to be, not that I knew how to reinvent myself. I was always very much myself, no matter how hard I tried to be more fun or easygoing or not quite so sensitive. Everyone had been nice, and with the exception of Yvonne, I had enjoyed their company, even Len’s. He wasn’t someone I’d ever be attracted to, but he was the sort of person who brought cohesion to a disparate group of people by taking over the conversation and involving everyone in whatever he wished to talk about. Without him, the conversation might have stalled.
A deep silence settled over the house once everyone went to bed, the ancient floors no longer creaking or the pipes shuddering when someone used the toilet. Only the rain pattering against the windows and the wind moving in the chimney were audible in my room, sounds I normally found soothing.
A shiver ran up my spine as I heard something else. I strained, trying to identify the sound. It was faint, yet alarming, a sort of deep vibration that seemed to settle in my bones and make my heart beat a little faster. I sat up and looked around. There was nothing to see beyond the shadows, but for one brief moment, I thought I heard someone breathing nervously, as if they were afraid of being discovered.
I peered into the corner as my hands clutched the duvet to my chest, eventually realizing that what I had taken for a person was my coat hanging on a coatrack, and the nervous breathing had come from me. I lay back down and exhaled a sigh of relief.
I was being ridiculous. There was nothing to be frightened of. My inability to sleep and sudden anxiety were nothing more than the sum of the day’s experiences. My friend Jane, a therapist, had taught me to break down my anxiety into manageable bits that I could easily deal with on their own. It was simple, really. I was in an unfamiliar house, surrounded by people I’d only just met, my mind full of stories of drowned villages and creepy churches. Throw in gusty wind, hard rain, and the sounds of an old house settling, and my mind was on overload, creating scary stories that wouldn’t let me sleep.
Turning onto my side to face away from the window, I closed my eyes and imagined myself walking through a sunny meadow dotted with wildflowers. Picturing somewhere safe and beautiful always helped me relax. Eventually, the strange noise receded, and I began to drift, no longer frightened. But my mind wasn’t so easily diverted, images of
