Road to Paradise Island Page 3

  off scot free. What do you think of that? There's favouritism for you. Wasn't right. People don't like it. It seemed the master would do anything for them Gows."

  "That must have been years ago," I said impatiently for I was not interested in the triumph of the Gows.

  "Well," she went on, "as I said I wasn't no more than a nipper ... But it was always like that. The Gows has always had the Manor behind them. That's what folks said."

  "Well, they have done very well. I suppose they must be admired for that."

  "Helped on ... so it was said."

  "It is also said that God helps those who help themselves. You should know being on somewhat more intimate terms with the Almighty than the rest of us."

  Irony was lost on her. She nodded sagely and said: "That's so."

  I took my leave of her then, realizing that I was not going to discover anything about Ann Alice Mallory from her.

  I told Philip about it.

  "Why the interest?" he asked. "Just because she has a name like yours?"

  "It's a feeling I have."

  Philip was always sceptical about my feelings. He laughed at me.

  "What about going for a ride?" he asked.

  I loved riding with him and I accepted the invitation with alacrity; but I could not get Ann Alice out of my mind. I kept thinking of the mysterious young woman in the forgotten grave.

  The heat intensified. There was a stillness in the air which seemed ominous.

  Everyone said: It's too hot to work, too hot to move, too hot to breathe almost.

  It will break soon, they said. My goodness we need the rain.

  I felt frustrated out of all reason because my efforts to discover something about the woman who was haunting my dreams were proving to be so disappointing. Mrs. Gow was clearly too young to remember and Mrs. Terry was so obsessed by her envy of the Gows that she could not concentrate on the matter. Where else could I look?

  Why did I care? Why should it seem so important just because I had found her grave and she had a name similar to mine and had been more or less the same age as I was when she had died? Why was she perpetually in my thoughts? It was almost as though she were a living presence. It was typical of me to concern myself with such a matter,

  Philip said. What could it matter what had happened to the girl now? She was dead, wasn't she?

  She was unhappy, I thought. I sense it. It's in the house. It was round her grave.

  Why was her grave neglected? The others were not. It was as though someone had buried her and wanted to forget.

  That afternoon it was too hot to go out walking or riding. I stretched out on a chair in the garden in the shade, listening to the bees. The lavender was almost depleted now; the blooms had been gathered and made into sachets for drawers and cupboards so the busy little insects were at work on the purple blossoms of the veronica. Idly I watched a dragonfly flit across the pond over which Hermes was poised as though in flight. I caught a flash of gold as the fish swam round in the pond. There was a stillness everywhere as though all nature was tense ... waiting for something to happen.

  The quiet before the storm, I thought.

  The heat continued through the afternoon. We sat about languidly after dinner. Granny M said it had been too hot for her to go into Great Stanton today. I agreed with her.

  We retired early. The heat made sleep difficult, and it was about two o'clock in the morning when the storm broke. I was only half-asleep and was immediately startled into wakefulness by the violent crash of thunder which seemed right over my head. I sat up in bed. So the long-threatened storm was upon us.

  A flash of lightning brightened the room to be followed immediately by another heavy clap of thunder.

  The sky seemed ablaze. I had never seen such lightning. I heard movements in the house and I gathered that some of the servants were stirring.

  Thunderstorms were not very frequent and when they came were usually soon over. This one was right overhead and the crashes were following fast on one another.

  I got up and put on my dressing gown and slippers and as I did so I heard the loudest crash so far. I stood very still, my heart beating fast.

  Then I heard it again ... right upon us. I could hear the sound of falling masonry.

  I ran out into the corridor. Philip was there.

  "Something's been struck," he said.

  "You mean ... the house."

  "I don't know."

  Another crash, then another and another.

  Granny M appeared.

  "What's happened?" she demanded.

  "We don't know yet," said Philip. "I thought the house had been struck."

  "Well, we'd better find out."

  Some of the servants had arrived.

  "Mr. Philip thinks we may have been struck," said Granny M. "Don't panic. It can't be much. We'd soon know if it was. Oh!"

  That was another clap right overhead.

  "Philip... and you, Jennings." She indicated the butler who had just arrived on the scene. "You'd better go and look. Where do you think it could be?"

  "I'd say the roof, Mrs. Mallory," said Jennings.

  "The rain will be pouring in somewhere," said Philip. "Better find out quickly."

  I could hear the rain lashing against the windows as Philip with Jennings and others went running up the stairs.

  Granny M and I followed.

  I heard a shout. It was Philip. "The roofs damaged," he said.

  I could smell burning, but there was no fire. The rain would quickly have put that out. Water was pouring into the corridor.

  Granny M was calm and in charge of the situation. Receptacles of all kinds were brought up to catch the rain. There was such a bustle and excitement that the storm was forgotten. It continued to thunder on.

  One of the housemaids though was having hysterics.

  "She always does, Miss, for thunder," one of the maids told me. "It's on account of her auntie shutting her in a cupboard when she was five and telling her it meant God was angry and punishing the world..."

  Two of the maids went off to succour their hysterical companion.

  Jennings was as calm as Granny M. He investigated the damage and said: "Nothing can be done till tomorrow, Mrs. Mallory. Then we'll have to call in Gow's."

  The storm persisted for an hour and during that time we were emptying buckets of rainwater and doing our best to prevent further damage. It was a great relief when it stopped raining and the deluge in the receptacles was reduced to drips.

  "What a night," said John Barton who had come in from his rooms over the stables to give a hand.

  "Don't worry, Mrs. Mallory," said Jennings. "It's not as bad as I first thought. I'll go along to Gow's just as soon as they are opened."

  "And now," said Granny M, "I think we should have something really warm. Some hot punch I think. Will you see to that, Jennings.

  For the family in my sitting room, please, and see that it is served in the kitchen too."

  So we sat in Granny M's room listening to the faint rumbling of thunder in the distance, sipping hot punch, and telling each other that this was a night we should always remember.

  In the morning William Gow came to assess the damage. One other house on the Green had been struck, he told us. People were saying it was the worst storm for a hundred years.

  William Gow was up on the roof for some time and when he came down he looked grave.

  "Worse than I thought," he said. "There'll be quite a bit of work to be done... apart from the roof repairs, and you know, Mrs. Mallory, how hard it is to find the right tiles for these old houses. They've got to be medieval and yet they've got to be sound. It's not only that, though. Some of the woodwork has been damaged. That will have to be replaced."

  "Very well, Mr. Gow," said Granny M. "Just let me know what."

  "Well, I wanted to look at the panelling in that part where the damage has been done. Some of it will have to be made good. Otherwise it's going to rot and break away."

 
; "Make a thorough examination," said Granny. "And then we'll discuss it."

  He spent the whole morning climbing about, tapping and examining.

  I went out walking round the village. Many of the bushes had been beaten down but there was a smell of freshness in the air. There were puddles everywhere and the entire village seemed to be out and determined to hear the latest news.

  I could not resist calling on Mrs. Terry. She was sitting up in bed with the air of an ancient prophet.

  "What a storm, and can you wonder! I sat up in bed saying, 'Let them have it, O Lord. It's the only way of learning these here sinners.'"

  I thought of the housemaid who at five had been shut in the cupboard and told the storm was due to God's anger and it occurred to me that the righteous could cause a great deal of trouble in the world.

  "I am sure the Almighty was glad of the advice," I couldn't resist saying acidly.

  "They say the Manor has been struck," went on Mrs. Terry, ignoring that remark. "The roof, wasn't it?" I fancied I detected a disappointment that the damage had not been greater. "And the Carters, too. Their place was hit. Well, they will go gadding about.

  And do you know they bought that Amelia of theirs a gold locket and chain. At her age."

  "And the damage to their home is the wages of the sin of gadding about and buying a gold locket?"

  "I don't know. People get their just deserts. That's what it says in the Bible."

  "Does it? Where?"

  "Never you mind where. It just does, that's it."

  "Well, I'm glad you survived, Mrs. Terry."

  "Oh, I knew I'd be all right."

  "Special protection from Heaven. But the righteous don't always escape. Think of the saints and the martyrs."

  But Mrs. Terry was not going to be drawn into a theological controversy.

  She merely murmured: "This will be a lesson to them... perhaps."

  When I arrived back at the house I went upstairs to see how William Gow and his assistant were getting on.

  I met him in the corridor which I always called the haunted spot.

  He said: "I've been looking at this wall, Miss Annalice. The damp got through here. Look at this." He touched it. "I don't reckon that's safe," he went on.

  "What do you propose?"

  "I reckon we should take down this wall. I can't understand what it's doing here. The panelling isn't quite the same quality as the rest of the corridor."

  "I am sure my grandmother will agree that you should do what you think best."

  He tapped the wall and shook his head.

  "It's a bit odd," he said. "I'll speak to Mrs. Mallory."

  There was a great deal of talk about the restoration necessary after the storm. The damage had not been so very great but, as in all such cases, more work was going to be required than I had at first thought. The roof was of paramount importance and that was dealt with immediately and then William Gow and his men started on the inside of the house.

  I was interested in that wall which had to be taken down because it was in that corridor which some of the servants said was haunted, and which I myself had thought to have a strangeness about it; and on the day when the men started on it I contrived to be in the house.

  I went up to watch them at work and that was how I happened to be the first one to step into that room.

  None of us could believe our eyes.

  There was a great deal of dust and plaster; in fact it made a kind of mist, but there it was... actually a room ... looking as though someone had just left it expecting to return at any moment.

  William Gow cried: "Well, I never did in all my born days."

  His assistant murmured: "Holy Moses!"

  I just stared and a great excitement possessed me.

  I cried: "So it really was walled up. There is something extraordinary about this. There must be a reason."

  I stepped in.

  "Be careful," said William Gow. "This place must have been shut up for a good many years. The air will be none too good. Best wait a bit, Miss Annalice."

  "What an extraordinary thing!" I cried. "It looks as though someone has just walked out and left it."

  "I should keep away from all that dust, Miss Annalice. Could be nasty. Leave it for a while. Let the air get in. We'll take away the whole of this wall, Bill. It's the strangest thing I ever saw."

  My impatience was so great that I had to get into that room, but I did curb my impatience for half an hour. I hung about waiting, every now and then asking if I could go in. At length William Gow said that the dust had settled and the fresh air had penetrated the place a little; and he and I went in together.

  It was not a large room, which was the reason why it was possible to hide it, I supposed. It contained a bed. There were hangings on the bed of blue velvet—at least that was the colour they appeared to be, for it was hard to see under the layer of dust. The carpet on the floor was dark blue. There was a small chest of drawers, two chairs and a dressing table. Lying in a chair was a lace fichu and a pair of gloves. I stared at them in wonder. The impression was that someone had been living here right until the last moment when it was decided to shut it away and whoever had occupied the room had not had time to put her fichu away or pick up her gloves. It was a woman, that much was clear—providing of course the articles belonged to her. And it was a woman's room. I was sure of that. There was a certain femininity about it. The dressing table had a frilled flounce; and lying on it was a hand mirror ready to be picked up.

  William Gow was beside me.

  "There was a window there," he said.

  "Of course. A window. There would have to be a window."

  "Blocked in," he said. "Looks like a job that was done at top speed."

  I turned to stare at him.

  "What a strange discovery," I said. "Who would want to block up a room like this?"

  He shrugged his shoulders. He was not a very imaginative man.

  I went on: "I should have thought they would have cleared out the furniture first."

  He did not answer. His eyes had caught something in the wood he had just pulled down.

  "What is it?" I asked.

  "It's the mark."

  "What mark?"

  "Gow's mark."

  "Where?"

  He showed me. It was a tiny carving of a squirrel sitting up with a nut in its paws, its bushy tail sticking up behind.

  I looked at him questioningly and he went on: "A Gow put up that panel that shut off the room. Must have been my grandfather. He always had that mark. We put it on our woodwork still. It's been passed down through the family."

  "Well, I suppose that would have been the case. Your family have been doing carpentering here for generations."

  "It gives you a bit of a shock like," said William Gow.

  I thought that was a mild way of expressing it, but I was not interested in the carving. I was overcome by the adventure of finding the room, wondering whose room it had been, and why people had thought it necessary to shut it away. It was not easy to remove a room. There was only one way of doing it. Shut it in. Wall it in. Make it as though it had never been.

  When Granny M heard what had happened she was amazed. I went up with her and William Gow to examine the room again. What struck her as so strange was that they should not have removed the furniture before walling up the room. "And why," she said to me, "did they not simply lock it up if they did not want to use it any more?

  "The Mallorys could behave very extraordinarily at times," she went on, gently releasing herself from the family which she did very rarely. It was only when their actions were slightly less than exemplary that she disowned them temporarily.

  "There must have been a reason," I said.

  "That is something we shall never know," replied Granny M. "Now what's to be done. I think first we should examine the furniture. Did you say there was a window at one time? Well, we can put that back for a start. And this furniture ... I should imagine it has been ruined after being sh
ut up like this. For how long? Who can say?

  Certainly it has always been shut away in my time. We'll get them clearing it at once."

  William Gow said: "Begging your pardon, Mrs. Mallory, but it should be left for a day or two. Let the air in. Could be unhealthy ... if you see what I mean."

  "Very good. Let the air in. All right. Let everyone know that they are not to go in here until they are given my permission. I expect there'll be a lot of talk about this. Tell them it is not an exhibition."

  "That's right, Mrs. Mallory," said William Gow. "And anyone coming in should take a bit of care. I don't know what the woodwork and the floor will be like after all them years."

  "We'll leave it till you say, Mr. Gow."

  "I'd like to have a thorough examination first, Mrs. Mallory. I'd like to make sure it's quite safe before anything much is moved."

  "It shall be so."

  I went down with Granny M. Philip was there. He had to see the room and that evening we talked of little else but what had just been revealed.

  I lay in bed. I could not sleep. The discovery had excited me more than any of them. Why? I kept asking myself. What an extraordinary thing to do. Why go to so much trouble to wall up a room? As Granny M had said, Why not simply lock it?

  I could not get it out of my mind. Every detail seemed to be imprinted on my memory. The bed with its velvet curtains... grey with the years of dust. Cobwebs draped from the ceilings, I remembered. I kept seeing the dressing table with the mirror, the chair with the fichu and the gloves on it. Had she just taken them off or was she about to put them on? The chest of drawers... I wondered what might be in those drawers.

  I tossed and turned. In the morning I would go and look. What harm could that do? I would be careful. What was William Gow suggesting? That the floor might give way? That I might be poisoned by foul air?

  I was suddenly obsessed by the desire to go and see for myself. Why not? I looked up at the ceiling... up the stairs... along the corridor.

  My heart started to beat uncomfortably fast. A little shiver ran through me. I half believed in the servants' talk that it was haunted, and now that this was revealed it seemed even more likely.