The Forgotten Cottage, the eagerly awaited and chillingly terrifying new book in Helen Phifer’s best-selling ‘Annie Graham’ series.

Annie Graham has fought her demons and is ready to leave them behind. Her new cottage seems like the new start she’s craved: quiet and quaint, it’s empty of the memories which have haunted her for so long.

But before long the ghosts of a forgotten tragedy stir within Annie’s new home. Someone – or something – is coming for her. And this time she might not get the chance to run…

Also available by Helen Phifer

The Forgotten Cottage

The Ghost House

The Forgotten Cottage

Helen Phifer

Copyright

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2014

Copyright © Helen Phifer 2014

Helen Phifer asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

E-book Edition © June 2014 ISBN: 9781474007788

Version date: 2018-06-27

HELEN PHIFER

lives in a small town called Barrow-in-Furness with her husband and five children and has done since she was born. It gets some bad press but really is a lovely place to live, surrounded by coastline and not far from the Lake District, where she likes to spend at least one of her days off from work. She has always loved writing and reading and loves reading books which make the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Unable to find enough scary stories to read, she decided to write her own.

You can contact follow Helen on her blog at http://helenphiferblog.wordpress.com, her website at www.helenphifer.co.uk and on Twitter, @helenphifer1.

This past year has been amazing and I’d like to thank the following people for sharing my journey.

My heartfelt thanks go to my amazing editor Lucy Gilmour and the rest of the fabulous HQ Digital Team. My wonderful readers, who have taken Annie, Will & Jake into their hearts and for following them on their adventures; without your support we wouldn’t be on our third adventure. I would like to thank my children Jessica, Joshua, Jerusha, Jaimea and Jeorgia for nearly always understanding that I have to write and putting up with the terrible cooking. A huge thank you to my granddaughter Gracie, who always makes me smile and fills my heart with joy whenever she walks into a room.

A special thank you to my fellow bloggers Jo Bartlett, Julie Heslington, Alex Weston, Helen Rolfe, Deirdre Palmer, Lynn Davidson, Jackie Ladbury & Rachael Thomas, who all form The Write Romantics, you all rock and I don’t know what I’d do without you. Finally, my friends at Cumbria Constabulary for keeping it real; it’s a tough job but someone has to do it.

Helen xx

For my husband Steve, thank you for your unwavering support.

Contents

Cover

Blurb

Book List

Title Page

Copyright

Author Bio

Acknowledgements

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Extract

Endpages

About the Publisher

Chapter One

She looked out of the bedroom window onto the front garden—a garden full of flowers, some wild and some she had planted herself. The brightly coloured blooms were swaying in the breeze. She heard the men and the dogs before they came into sight; they were a good distance away but they were coming. She took one last look at the garden she had so nurtured and locked it into her mind then she turned and ran. Annie Graham was running for her life. She held onto her left side to ease the stitch which was making it difficult for her to breathe. Running out of the back door of the house and over the dry stone wall, she wasn’t familiar with the woods she was in but she knew that if the dogs and men caught up with her it wouldn’t end very well. The dogs were snarling. She could hear their teeth clashing together; they were getting too close. Panting hard and clutching her side, she continued looking for a tree she could climb or a building she could take cover in. Her bare feet were cut, bleeding, and giving the dogs a trail to follow. It was no good, there was no way she could outrun them. She didn’t even know why she was running; tired and overwhelmed, her body was telling her to give up and wait for them to find her. Whatever it was she had done could be explained; she was a police officer so she couldn’t have done anything too bad. Slowing down to catch her breath, she heard the shouts of her pursuers closing in on her. They were hyped up and chanting the same words over and over:

‘Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live; thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.’

Fear filled her heart; she wasn’t a witch, this was stupid. Why would anyone think that? The voices were close now—too close. They were chanting in a frenzy. Annie looked down, expecting to see her police uniform, but was startled to see a long white cotton gown. She didn’t even own anything that looked like this. An adrenalin kick started her urge for survival and she began to run once more. She heard the sound of the bubbling river which wasn’t too far away; if she could run into that it would clean her feet and throw the dogs off her trail. With the fast-flowing river in sight, she felt hope that this might not end as badly as she’d thought. She pushed herself on, so focused on reaching the icy-cold water that she didn’t see the mossy boulder jutting out of the ground and ran straight into it. Excruciating pain shot through her foot and she lost her balance and began falling towards the water, jerking so hard that she woke from the nightmare and managed to wake Will at the same time.

‘Oh, dear God, it was a dream. It was just a dream.’

A groggy Will reached across and switched the bedside lamp on. He looked at the clock: it was three a.m. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. Bad dream.’

Will blinked and looked at her. She was covered in a film of sweat and her hair was stuck to her forehead. ‘Want to tell me what it was about?’

She shook her head. ‘No, thanks, I want to forget it.’

He nodded and then pulled her close to him. ‘I’ll protect you from your scary dreams; do you want me to help you go back to sleep, take your mind off them?’

She laughed. ‘Do you have sex on the brain permanently?’

‘Only when I’m with you, but in this case I’ll settle for a cuddle.’

He lay back and Annie lay next to him, his arms around her and her head on his chest. Almost immediately he began to breathe deeply and she lay listening to him, watching his chest rise and fall. She wished she could go back to sleep so easily; this was the second time in as many days that she’d had the same nightmare and had woken up at the exact same time. It left her feeling unsettled that there was something hovering in the distance, a dark shadow in the background which was keeping out of sight, and she had no idea what it was or what it could mean.

Pushing it to the back of her mind, she began to think about the wedding, which was only fourteen weeks away. She lifted her hand to look at the beautiful engagement ring Will had given to her. Who said that dreams didn’t come true? Hers certainly were and her life had never been so perfect. She felt as if she and Will were meant to be together; they were such a good match. Although it had taken some terrible detours to get this far, it had made both of them much stronger and surer about how much they loved each other.

She thought about the vintage wedding dress she had found in the small shop in Kendal last month and how straight away she had been drawn towards it. The high bodice, which had a whalebone corset and was covered in the most delicate lace, was so pretty she couldn’t help but reach out to touch it. The dress had a full-length silk skirt, which was covered in the same delicate lace and the tiniest crystals and pearls were sewn onto it, making it sparkle. Lily had been busy pulling out dresses for her to try on when Annie had turned to the assistant and asked her if she could try this one on.

‘I’m sorry but it’s for display purposes and not actually for sale. It’s very old but we do have some modern takes on it I can show you.’

Lily had turned around and seen the disappointment etched across Annie’s face. ‘Darling, everything has a price. Please let my friend try it on; it won’t hurt and we won’t tell if you don’t.’

The assistant had dithered for a second then nodded and began to remove it from the mannequin. Annie had taken it into the dressing room and let the assistant help her into it. Deep down she knew that this was the one and it was the only one. It was so delicate and stylish, she had to have it; she would be gutted if they wouldn’t sell it to her. It even fitted perfectly, thanks to her pre-wedding nerves and her loss of appetite.

An image of the first woman to wear the dress flashed across her eyes—she looked very similar to Annie but with much fairer skin and strawberry-blonde hair. Annie knew that the woman who had married in this dress had spent the rest of her life with her husband, happy until death separated them, and she took it as a perfect omen for her and Will.

When she opened the curtain and stepped out, Lily had gasped. ‘Oh, Annie, you look amazing, simply beautiful.’

Even the shop assistant had agreed. ‘Let me speak to my boss and see what we can do; it’s as if that dress was made for you.’

Annie looked in the mirror and smiled. It was a lot different to the awful green suit she’d worn when she married her first husband, Mike, when she was just nineteen. She felt like a princess and knew Will would love it. Lily brought over a large diamanté slide, which she tucked to one side of Annie’s hair.

‘I don’t care how much that dress costs, we have to buy it.’

‘Well, if it’s extortionate then I don’t think so; there are lots of others.’

The assistant walked back into the room with a smile on her face. ‘Phew, you caught her on a good day; she said if the dress was the one for you, and I’ve assured her that it is, then you can buy it. The only problem is it’s eight hundred pounds.’

Lily whipped out her credit card, ‘Done and thank you so much for all your help.’

Annie couldn’t stop grinning; even she could afford to buy it. She’d been saving up and had more than enough to pay for the dress if Lily would ever let her. She lay in bed, snuggled next to Will, thinking happy thoughts which pushed the nightmare away, losing herself in a world of weddings until she drifted back to sleep.

When she woke up she’d forgotten all about the nightmare until she tried to stand. Her foot was painful. She looked down at her left foot, which had a couple of scratches and the beginning of a large blue bruise on the side of it. She must have hit it on the bedside table when she’d been thrashing around in her dream last night. She hobbled to the bathroom, where she ran a bath and hoped a soak would take away some of the soreness.

Will had already left for work; he was on an early and she was on a late. Most weeks they were like ships that passed in the night but at the moment it suited both of them. Annie didn’t want Will to get fed up of spending time with her and if she wasn’t around all the time then he couldn’t, although she missed him. She never got bored of being with him, unlike Mike; she used to do anything to escape spending time in his company, never complaining about having to work over her finishing time, and she hoped she would never feel that way about going home to Will. She got out of the bath and went downstairs.

The phone was ringing and she picked it up to hear a breathless Lily. ‘Oh Annie, it’s Tom…he’s collapsed. We’re on our way to the hospital. He’s unconscious.’ She let out a sob.

‘Where are they taking him, Lily? Which hospital? We’ll be there soon. He’ll be okay, he’s in the best hands.’

‘Westmorland General.’

‘We’re on our way, Lily; I promise we won’t be long.’

Annie hung up and rang Will, who answered on the first ring. ‘Will, your dad’s collapsed; he’s on his way to Westmorland General in an ambulance with Lily.’

‘How serious is it, Annie—did Lily say?’

‘She doesn’t know; I said we’d be there soon.’

‘I’ll be there in a minute.’

‘I’ll be ready; drive carefully, Will.’

She got dressed, grabbed her phone and some money then waited on the front doorstep for Will. His BMW turned into the street and she ran down the steps and climbed inside. Will’s normally tanned face looked pale.

‘Has she rung back?’

Annie shook her head. ‘No, but it will take a while for them to get there. If you put your foot down we’ll not be that far behind them. He’ll be okay, Will; he’s like you, made of tough stuff.’

‘I hope so, Annie. I’d hate anything to happen to him now, especially before the wedding.’

Annie blinked back tears. She adored Tom and didn’t know what she would do if the unthinkable happened.

They drove in silence, Will with his foot to the pedal. The roads weren’t busy and they made it to the hospital in good time. They went to the Accident and Emergency Department, where Lily was standing in the corner, her face pale and her arms wrapped around herself. Will ran over to her and hugged her; she hugged him back. Eventually they separated and Lily threw her arms around Annie.

‘Thank you for coming so quickly… I don’t know what to do. One minute he was fine, the next he collapsed on the kitchen floor. I heard a loud crash and thought he’d dropped a plate. I got such a shock to see him lying there.’

‘Has anyone spoken to you yet? Did the paramedics have any idea what it was?’

‘They said it could have been a stroke or a heart attack… The doctor said he’d come out as soon as possible.’

Lily burst into tears and Will stepped forward to hug her again. Annie looked at him and once more thanked her lucky stars that she had him, then she turned to go and see if she could find someone to speak to and find out what was happening.

1st July 1782

Betsy Baker listened to her mother groaning from her small bed behind the curtain in the front room and smiled. She did nothing but complain about the weather, the neighbours, what was for tea, what Betsy was doing and on and on. Since she could remember, her mother had liked to use her fists on her; any excuse would result in a clip around the ear. If she didn’t do her chores or was late to come in when she had been playing out, her punishment would be a sly punch in the ribs. Her mother had always been a drinker and how hard she would hit depended on how drunk she was.

Now that Betsy was much older and dared to hit her back, the punches were few and far between; instead, her mother preferred to use her vicious tongue to lash out at her, but Betsy was almost twenty-one and old enough to leave. If only she had somewhere to go, but her mother kept her there, always playing on her poor health. Betsy wanted a life of her own and a man, she wanted to live somewhere that wasn’t damp and dingy or smelt of stale ale. She wanted to be free to do whatever she pleased with whoever she wanted. Her father had died when she was only five; she missed him, he would sing to her and tell her stories and she knew that he had loved her a lot more than her mother ever had.

Now, thanks to Betsy, her mother really did have poor health. Several nights ago Betsy had heard talk in the village of a powder called arsenic that could be bought from the chemist. Joss Brown, who lived at the farm not too far away, had been telling the rest of the men in the pub that he had bought some to kill off the rats that were overrunning his hay barns. Betsy worked behind the bar of The Queen’s Head, where the men would gather each evening. Her mother hated her working in a pub but it gave Betsy a chance to get out of the cramped, cold cottage. She had been flirting with Joss for weeks now. She was always quiet around the other men but she liked Joss, or she should say that she liked the big cottage that he lived in with his two sons. It was part of the farm that his mother and father owned. Joss was a widower; his wife had died last year and he had kept to himself ever since, but three times a week he would come into the pub for some ale and conversation. Betsy would do anything to escape from her mother and although she disliked children and did not want to have any herself, she would be able to put up with the horrible things until something or someone better came along.

This morning she had gone to the chemist and asked for some arsenic powder to kill the rats which had suddenly appeared in their house. The chemist had handed some over to her and told her to be very careful with it and she was. She had taken it straight home and put it into an old tin at the back of the larder, after first sprinkling some into her mother’s broth. She thought that life would be much easier without her. Not half an hour later her mother had begun to complain of terrible stomach pain and feeling ill. She had taken to her bed and lay there all afternoon, moaning and groaning. Betsy had taken her a cup of tea with even more of the powder in and then left to go to the pub. Her mother had begged her to call the doctor and she had said she would go and fetch him, but she had no intention of doing that. She wanted to leave her to it while she went to work, hoping that by the time she came home the woman would be dead and then she would call the doctor.

As Betsy was walking through the front door of the pub she walked into Joss, who was on his way out.

‘Sorry, Joss, I’m running late. I never saw you there. Are you leaving so soon? It’s only early.’

‘Good evening, Betsy. It’s been a grand day, hasn’t it?’

Betsy nodded in agreement; if her mother was dead when she went home it would indeed be a grand day.

‘Yes, Joss, it has been a wonderful day. Why don’t you come back inside for one more drink—I like to see you and who will I speak to all night if you go home now?’

She could see the redness creeping up his cheeks and he was looking at her as if he was seeing her clearly for the first time. He noticed her long black hair, ice-blue eyes and her ample bosom.

‘I want to come back in, I really do, but my father isn’t well and I said I would milk the cows and take my boys back home. They’re up at the farm with my mother.’

Betsy reached out and let her fingers brush along his bare arm. ‘I am sorry to hear that, Joss. I hope he is better by the morning and then you can come back and talk to me tomorrow night. That is, if you would want to?’

Joss shivered at her touch and she smiled.

‘I’ll be here waiting for you. Do not forget that, Joss Brown.’

She turned away from him and entered the pub but she felt his eyes behind her. He was standing watching her until she let the heavy wooden door shut and he could no longer see her. Betsy was having a grand old day. If everything went to plan, Joss would call round to offer his assistance, she could cry and tell him she couldn’t bear to live in her cold, damp house, which still smelt of death. She hoped he would offer her a room at his cottage in exchange for some cooking and cleaning. Then she would work on him until he was besotted with her and ask for her hand in marriage.

The pub was busy and Betsy worked hard all evening. Old Jack Thomas would not leave her alone. For an old man he was like an octopus and whenever she passed him he would grab a handful of her behind. She’d laughed at him and slapped his arm away, telling him to behave himself or she would have him thrown from the pub. The other men had laughed. The talk in there had been good-humoured, the warmth from the sun today having a good effect on everyone’s mood.

When it was time to go home she felt her stomach begin to churn. She hadn’t seen a dead person before and hoped her mother didn’t look like something from a nightmare. She put her cloak over her shoulders and declined an offer from one of the younger men in the pub to walk her home. She didn’t want any gossip to get back to Joss and this was such a small village it would; there was no doubt of that. Her house was not a two-minute walk from the pub and she was home in no time, even though she had trailed her feet, uneasy about what she was about to find. She stood outside for a minute, trying to calm her shaking hands, then Betsy pushed the front door open and stepped inside, listening for any sound. It was so quiet; she couldn’t remember the last time she had heard such peace in this house.

‘Mother, I’m home now. How are you feeling—do you still want me to fetch the doctor?’ There were no candles burning as there would be every other night. The house was filled with darkness. Betsy’s heart was beating fast with fear and excitement at what she might find behind the tatty, moth-eaten curtain that separated the living room from her mother’s bedroom. She felt her way into the small kitchen, along the shelf above the stove for a candle and matches; she struck a match and the orange flame lit up the room briefly. She held the flame to the wick before it went out; it soon caught and the candle began to burn.

Not realising how much her hand was shaking until she lifted the candlestick up, she looked in the direction of the curtain; her feet did not want to move but she forced them to take a step forward one at a time until her outstretched hand was touching the coarse material.

She drew it back and screamed; not for one minute had she expected her mother to look as she did. Her face was frozen in an expression of contorted agony. Her head was turned towards the curtain, her eyes were wide open, staring at Betsy, accusing her of murder, and there was blood around her mouth—so much blood. Betsy had no idea what she had expected to see but it had not been this and she carried on screaming until the neighbours came running to see what was the matter. She was led away by Mrs Whitman from next door, who had taken one look at her mother’s body and gasped, crossing herself.

‘Come, child—there is nothing you can do for her now.’

Betsy let her lead her by the hand to her house next door; this one was full of light and did not smell like her house had. A bleary-eyed teenage boy came down the stairs and Mrs Whitman ordered him to run and fetch Dr Johnson.

Chapter Two

The bell rang to tell them visiting time was over and Annie bent down to kiss Tom’s cheek. He was so pale and had aged since he’d been admitted three days ago but at least he was alive. Will also bent down and kissed his dad, who grinned at the pair of them. His speech slurred, he spoke slowly. ‘He really is a big softie underneath that cool exterior.’

Annie nodded. ‘He is adorable, but you had us all worried, Tom. Don’t go doing anything like that again.’

‘I’ll try not to.’

They turned and hugged Lily then left them to it. Closing the door to the private room behind them, Annie and Will left the hospital hand in hand. Neither of them spoke until they got outside.

‘You know he was really lucky, it hasn’t affected his speech too much and he can still walk and move his arms. I think he’ll need someone to help at home, though; it’s not fair to expect Lily to look after the house and my dad; he can afford to pay someone.’

‘Oh, I don’t know; plenty of people don’t really have a choice, Will. They just have to get on with it and I don’t mind popping in every day on my way home from work.’

‘I know, but my dad isn’t most people; he could afford a housekeeper or a nurse to help out. Even if it’s only until he’s back on his feet. I’ll speak to Lily. I bet she refuses point-blank but it would make sense. I just wish we lived a bit nearer to them.’

‘We could always go and stop with them for a little while.’

‘Yes, we could, but it’s not as if either of us are around much; we both work long hours and opposite shifts. What would you think about moving somewhere up there—a bit closer for you for work and nearer to my dad?’

‘I’d love to, Will, but it depends on what we can afford. I love your house; it’s perfect and buying something similar in the Lakes would cost a lot more than we can afford.’

Will pulled her close and kissed her. He loved the way she was so practical with money. She never expected anything like a lot of people would, given his dad’s wealth.

‘I love you.’

‘I love you too. Now, come on, take me home. I need a long soak in the bath and my pyjamas.’

‘You also need me to scrub your back.’

‘True, but I need a glass of wine and some chocolate more at this very minute.’

Will opened the car door for her and she got in. It had been a long day. She’d started work at eight so had been up since six, then she’d worked a ten-hour shift, which had been busy, and then gone straight to the hospital to meet Will. She sank back into the soft leather seat of Will’s BMW and closed her eyes.

He looked across at her and smiled; he was going to start looking for a house that Annie would fall in love with and was much nearer for her to get to work and nearer to his dad. He didn’t mind being the one to have the longer commute; he enjoyed driving. It gave him time to think things through; a few of his cases had been solved on long car journeys when he’d had the time to really think about them. All he wanted was to make Annie happy, give her the life she deserved. He’d heard from his dad’s friend about a farm cottage that had been empty for twenty years; it was going up for auction and tomorrow he would make an appointment to view it. It was on the outskirts of Hawkshead and not as close as he’d like, but it was a beautiful village and there was the car ferry which ran most days so Annie could get across to Bowness. They’d gone to the quaint village for a wander round the last time they had a weekend off together and Annie had said how much she’d love to live somewhere like that, so it would be perfect for both of them. When he finally pulled up outside his cottage he gently shook Annie, who was asleep.

‘Come on, sleepyhead. I’ll run your bath while you see if you can find any chocolate in the cupboards.’

****

The silver CD player on the bedside table played soothing classical music that filled the small room. The bed was comfortable, he had his music and the view from the window was impressive; his room looked out onto the landscaped front gardens and the water fountain. He couldn’t really complain; it was like living in a hotel free of charge, every need tended to. The only thing which spoilt his view were the metal bars across the outside of the window and the locked metal door to stop him leaving his room whenever he felt like it, but that was okay. Since the day he’d come to the secure hospital he’d kept his head down, he’d always been polite and quiet—oh, so quiet. He’d spent six months in the medical ward where they had treated his severe facial burns until he was well enough to go up to a secure ward.

Henry turned from watching the nurses who were just finishing their shift walking down the path to the main gates and the guard house. He caught his reflection in the mirror and for a second he didn’t recognise himself. His dark hair had been burnt off in the fire and his scalp badly scarred. The skin was pink, shiny and puckered, the scars running down one side of his face. He had never been a vain person, not particularly thinking he was handsome, yet he still didn’t like the face that stared back at him. Of course a hat and some dark sunglasses would cover the worst of it, should he ever be allowed back out into the real world, which he doubted would ever be possible; he was too much of a risk towards women the judge had said at his trial, and Henry couldn’t argue with him. There had been a lot of anger towards women, which was how he’d ended up in this predicament.

The nurses never looked at him, not directly, except for Megan, with the pink streak in her hair and the tattoos running up one arm. She was young enough to be his daughter and she would often sit on the end of his bed, talking to him about the weather or asking him how he was feeling. She would tell him her latest boyfriend troubles, which Henry wasn’t the least bit interested in, but if he’d thought he lived a lonely life before he came here then it had got a whole lot worse now he was locked up and treated like a freak. He knew that Megan was morbidly fascinated by him; she was probably dying to know why he’d done what he did, but she would never ask. She was forbidden from talking to him about his crimes. That was saved for Dr Grace Marshall, who had been there to see the drama unfold and watch him get caught so he did have a sneaking respect for her because she’d almost seen him in action. He didn’t think he would ever kill her because she was far too valuable and he did enjoy their little chats, even if everything he told her was a distorted version of the truth. Henry wasn’t stupid and he only told her what he thought she should know.

He had a bit of a soft spot for Nurse Megan, though; he wouldn’t call it a crush because that was ridiculous, but he did like the attention she paid to him and he was working on her: feeding her snippets of his life before it had come to this in exchange for information about how the hospital worked, what she did on a typical day, how many guards were in the guard house and patrolling the grounds. Because Henry had no intention of staying locked up in this place for the rest of his life. Once he was well enough he had a couple of old acquaintances that he needed to visit and a plan he wanted to put in place. When he had first been admitted and the pain had been excruciating and his days were nothing more than a morphine-induced haze it had been the thought of meeting Annie Graham and Will Ashworth once again which had kept him going. It had given him the will to survive, against all odds.

The bolts on the door slid back and, bang on time, Megan entered with his lunch. He was supposed to eat with the other men on this wing but they were violent towards him, which was both a laugh and an insult. His crimes were no worse than any of the ones they had committed but for some reason they didn’t like him, so he stayed in his room until he was collected by the nurses and guards each day and taken for his solitary walk around the grounds in what he called the giant bird cage. He enjoyed his hour of exercise and fresh air; the feeling of the sun, wind and rain on his face was one he would never take for granted ever again. Even in the torrential rain he would go out and walk, never missing a day. His guards hated him even more in the bad weather and would shelter against the wall of the building or in one of the many doorways. Henry always promised them that he would behave and he did because he didn’t want to jeopardise anything until the time was right for him to leave and not come back. It would be a bad day when Henry left; the weather would be terrible so as to hinder any searches that were made for him and his scent would be washed away by torrential rain. Unless, of course, he could get Megan to help him and he thought that he might be able to do just that. It would be a shame to kill her but needs must and she reminded him a lot of a girl he’d known briefly a couple of years ago. He would never forget Jenna White—she had been his first kill.

Chapter Three

Annie was glad to finish work; she’d been stuck all afternoon directing traffic in the glaring sun for the Windermere air show. It had gone fast but it was too hot to work, especially in the direct sun with frustrated motorists driving at you from every direction and not one of them understanding what a stop sign meant. A woman with a car full of grey-haired friends had almost taken her out and she had to stop herself from calling her a ‘fucking idiot’. This would not have gone down very well with the public and probably would have resulted in a complaint to her sergeant, even though it was deserved.

The small station was empty when she got back; everyone was out enjoying the show, even Inspector Cathy Hayes, who always managed to worm her way out of as many public gatherings as she could. Annie was relieved because it meant she had time for a quick shower and could get changed in peace then drive to the car ferry to meet Will on the opposite side of Lake Windermere at the Queen’s Head in Hawkshead village. He had promised to buy her tea and a cold glass of wine and the thought of it had kept her going all afternoon.

She dried herself and got dressed in a pair of grey linen trousers, which were much cooler than her thick black combat pants, and a pale green blouse. She clipped her hair up and did a five-minute make-up job. Her nose was sunburnt so she covered it as best she could and left the station.

A door banged along the corridor. Annie paused; she knew the station was empty – it must be the resident ghost. She smiled to herself; although she hadn’t seen this one because it was very shy and kept itself to itself, it did like to bang doors and let her know it was around. She wasn’t threatened by it or afraid because she knew it meant no harm; it was just going about its daily business and wasn’t interested in her. Sometimes it was like that; not all ghosts were hanging around because they were stuck in this life or didn’t know how to move on. Some stayed because they wanted to.

She knew all of this because after sustaining a serious head injury two years ago that had been given to her by her now dead husband, she had started to see ghosts. Which had totally freaked her out at first but after a while she had come to realise that it was a special gift and one which had helped her to overcome a serial killer by helping a lovely ghost called Alice. She thought about poor little nine-year-old Sophie, who had desperately needed Annie’s help to be set free from the Shadow Man who had taken her away from her family and kept her in the shadows for twenty years. She had come to Annie for help and fighting the Shadow Man had been the scariest thing Annie had done up to now. Her friend Father John had tried to send him back to hell but had almost failed and it had been Annie who had stood her ground in sending him back, setting Sophie free in the process and reuniting her with her dead mum. Annie was lucky she wasn’t plagued by dead people all the time but if they needed her help they would come to her. Will had been scared by it at first but he and Jake, her best friend, had come to accept that Annie was now psychic and not mentally unstable and it was just a part of her life.

She walked to the door and shouted down the corridor, ‘Bye, you’re on your own now but someone will be in later and I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon.’ Another door banged in answer and Annie smiled to herself. She would like to actually meet whoever it was when they plucked up the courage to show themselves.

She got into her convertible red Mini and put the roof down. It was stuffy inside and she wanted to freshen up and besides she only got to do this about six times a year with all the rain there usually was. The roads were still busy and it took her much longer to get to the car ferry than normal. There was a queue but she managed to squeeze into the last spot on the boat which had just loaded. She paid her £4.50 and looked out across the water at the view. It was beautiful; there were lots of boats out sailing on the calm blue lake. The trees, houses and hills which surrounded the lake blended in seamlessly. The ferry was full of families and the sound of laughter as excited children were led from their cars by parents to take in the views.

Annie closed her eyes. She didn’t think there was anything nicer than the sound of children’s laughter and wondered to herself if she and Will would ever have any kids. Will was forty-five so he wasn’t too old to be a dad and she was only thirty-four but it wasn’t something they’d ever discussed. She had always thought she didn’t want kids, especially with Mike. It wouldn’t have been fair to subject them to his violent outbursts. It was a relief that she had managed to escape from him when she had. Lately, every time she saw a woman pushing a pram or a man carrying a toddler through the busy streets of Bowness she would picture Will with a cute kid in his arms and her heart would ache just a tiny bit. Maybe once they were married and settled down she would broach the subject with him and see how he felt. Of course if he didn’t want kids that was fine as well but she thought that he would make such an amazing dad it would be a shame not to give him the opportunity.

The ferry docked on the opposite side of the lake with a loud groan and a squeal of metal against stone and then it stopped suddenly. The barriers lifted and she turned the Mini’s engine back on—last on, last off. There was a long line of cars waiting to board the ferry and go back to the other side. She drove off and waved at the ticket collector. Then she drove the short distance towards Hawkshead and the man of her dreams, who had texted her to say he was waiting for her at the pub and had managed to get a table out the front. She parked in the car park, emptying her purse of ten pence pieces, feeding them into the machine. She got a ticket and then hurried to go and meet Will.

The early evening sun was still warm and the village was full of people wandering around. Annie walked towards the pub and felt her heart fill with joy at the sight of Will and the ice-cold glass of wine on the table in front of him. He looked up from the menu and grinned at her, his blue eyes crinkled full of mischief. He looked so like his dad. Annie squeezed past a loud American couple who were blocking the way and bent down to kiss him on the cheek. He turned and kissed her on the lips and it was her turn to grin.

‘Phew, am I glad to see you—what a day.’

She sat on the wooden bench next to him and picked up the glass, taking a large gulp. ‘It’s amazing.’

‘What is—me or the wine?’

‘You, of course, and the wine.’

He nudged her softly in the side. ‘You liar—you meant the wine. I don’t know about you but I’m starving and I’m having the biggest steak and chips they can drag out of the fridge.’

Annie looked at the menu and nodded in agreement. ‘I’ll have steak and a jacket potato, please.’

Will stood up and made his way to the bar to order. Annie sipped her wine as she people-watched. She could spend all evening people-watching. The American couple sat next to an older couple on the bench opposite and had struck up a conversation about how beautiful the village was and Annie agreed with them, it truly was. She could see the church, which was on a steep hill above the village square and she thought about Father John. She hadn’t seen him for a while; she should really go and pay him a visit. Now that he’d taken over the church in Bowness permanently she wanted to ask him about the wedding. When she’d saved his life last year he’d told her he owed her one and would marry her and Will on the house. She wasn’t after a cheap wedding but she would very much like him to marry them both.

Will reappeared and sat back down. ‘I’ve got a surprise to show you after, but it will have to wait until we’ve finished eating.’

‘You know I don’t like surprises—can’t you just tell me what it is now?’

‘No, sorry, I can’t. For once you will have to be patient and anyway I will have to take you to it.’

Annie scrunched up her face. No idea what he was talking about but she didn’t care; she could manage to wait an hour. They talked about Tom, Lily, the wedding, anything and everything, until the food arrived and Annie’s stomach let out a groan at the size of the plate. Then they ate in complete silence, until the American woman leant over and asked her what she was eating because it looked divine. When they were both finished they left the pub and walked hand in hand back towards the car park.

‘What do you want to do—follow me or leave your car here and I’ll bring you up to get it tomorrow?’

‘I’ll come with you and you don’t need to bring me back up. Cathy is working in Barrow until dinner time; I’ll ask her to pick me up on her way back up to Windermere and she can drop me off here.’

‘Sounds like a plan. Come on, you’re going to love this – I hope.’

They climbed into his car and he drove the opposite way that they would normally come down the small road which led through the village until they passed a big farmhouse and lots of barns. He carried on driving for a couple of minutes and then turned off at an old broken gate onto an overgrown gravel drive. It was bumpy and the hedges were so overgrown it was impossible to see where they were going. Will drove slowly until the drive opened onto a large house which was unloved and in desperate need of repair, but it was love at first sight for Annie.

‘Oh, my, what an amazing house. Whose is it?’

Will stopped the car under a huge drooping lilac tree and picked up her hand. ‘Well, that depends on how much you like it because if you do like it then we could.’

She looked at him. ‘How?’

‘Well, you said you’d like to live in this area and it belongs to my dad’s friend who owns the farm we passed. He wants to sell it and was going to put it up for auction but he said if we like it then we can have first refusal; it will save him the hassle of trying to sell it.’

Tears glistened in her eyes and for the first time in months she felt speechless. ‘But how could we afford it?’

Will began to laugh. ‘This is cheeky, I know, but your house sale should complete soon, so that would be almost enough to pay for it. We can sell mine and then use that money to renovate it. But, to be truthful, you really don’t need to worry if we can afford it; all I care about is if you love it enough to want to spend the time renovating it and then living in it. The rest will work itself out.’

Will didn’t want to sound pretentious but he could more than afford it without using Annie’s money but she would want to contribute and he didn’t want to take her independence away from her.

‘Will, I love it. Have you been inside? How bad is it?’

‘I had a look around before I went to the pub and, believe it or not, considering it’s been empty for over twenty years it’s not in too bad a shape. The roof is sound and the structure; it needs new windows and doors, damp-proofing, and there are a lot of small rooms downstairs that could be knocked through to make it more open-plan and spacious, but see what you think.’

They got out of the car and Annie squealed. The garden was overgrown but amongst the weeds and brambles were cornflowers, lavender, roses and wild foxgloves. Will took hold of her hand and led her towards the front door, which had its own porch built around it. The trellis on either side was rotten and the creamy white rambling rose that covered it was holding it all together but it could all be replaced.

As she followed Will under the porch she shivered and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled; her inbuilt supernatural radar was telling her it was already inhabited by someone that Will would never see but there was no way she would let it stop her because she knew that she wanted to love this house from the inside as much as she loved the outside. As Will pushed the wooden door open, she looked at the faded wooden sign above it – Apple Tree Cottage – and sighed. The house was empty for now and Will led her by the hand from room to room. It was a good job neither of them were tall, as the ceilings were low. Each one had exposed wooden beams. Jake would struggle because he was very tall, but after hitting his head a few times he would remember about them. The kitchen was the only room that still had most of its cupboards and a huge old-fashioned range cooker. It wasn’t very big and Will read her mind. ‘If we knocked through this and the other two rooms we could have a really big kitchen-diner where you could practise your cooking skills.’

He winked at her and she laughed.

‘Cheeky—it’s a good job you can cook or we’d starve. Will, I love it. I can see a huge pine table and chairs and a sofa and a bookcase in the corner.’

She could also see children running and playing but she didn’t say this because she didn’t want to him to get scared before they’d even finished looking.

‘It’s everything I’ve ever dreamt about, but what about you? Your house is equally as gorgeous, just a lot smaller.’

‘I love it around here, Annie, and I would very much like to live here, in this house. I think it has so much potential and it will make an amazing family home. Of course, it will also be a major pain in the arse with the planning and builders and mess, but if you can put up with it then so can I.’

Annie held her breath. He’d said ‘family home’ and she wondered if perhaps he’d been thinking the same as she had but been too afraid to say anything. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed his lips hard, then just as quickly she pulled away, taking his hand and dragging him to the rickety, steep staircase. They climbed up the stairs and Annie was surprised at how large the landing was; there was enough room by the small window which looked out over the fields and woods at the back of the house to put a desk and chair. They went in each room. There were five bedrooms in all and a bathroom. These rooms were much larger than the ones downstairs and the master bedroom was bigger than the one they had now. Annie paused in there to look at a painting on the wall; it was of the house when it was lived in. The exterior walls were white and the window frames painted pale green and Annie knew then that this was how she wanted it to look, exactly the same. There were wisps of smoke coming from the chimney and in the garden under a tree in the corner she could just make out the figure of a woman who was wearing a long white dress and had long straight dark hair. She had a basket on her arm but she was only visible to the naked eye if you squinted. Annie wondered if this part of the painting had been damaged somehow because the rest was in good condition.

She heard a scratching sound and whirled around. It sounded like fingernails being scraped across a blackboard. She shuddered but it stopped as suddenly as it had started. Will, who had wandered into the next bedroom, called her to come and have a look at the view. She pushed the noise to the back of her mind. The house had been empty so long it was bound to have mice, birds and God knows whatever else living inside. A voice whispered, And ghosts. She followed Will’s voice to the room, which looked onto the front garden from the large window. As she crossed the creaking floor to look out of it she was hit by a sense of àdéjà vu so strong that it made her knees tremble. She had looked out of this window before—the last two nights in a row in her nightmare. Will looked at her, taking hold of her hand.

‘What’s wrong Annie—is everything okay?’

She smiled at him, afraid to tell him anything when she didn’t understand it herself.

‘Wow, it’s truly beautiful, Will. I can’t believe it’s just been left to go to ruin for so long. I wonder why the owners moved out?’

‘I do know, but I don’t want to put you off.’

‘Oh, God, please don’t tell me someone was murdered in here.’

Will laughed. ‘You’re funny, Annie, and you have the nerve to call Jake a drama queen. No, nothing as horrible as that. The couple that lived here were called Bill and Margaret and they left because Bill became quite poorly, mentally. He had to be put into a mental hospital and back then it wasn’t as easy to get out as it is now. His wife was elderly and she moved into a flat to be near her husband, but his health deteriorated and he died. Margaret was devastated and didn’t want to live here on her own so she never came back.’

‘Aw that’s so sad, but kind of romantic too. And now we might be able to live here and bring it back to life.’

‘Yes, say the word, Miss Graham, and it can be ours. I’ll call and see the owner on the way back.’

Annie chewed her lip and looked around. She loved it and it would make the most amazing house once the wildlife and the ghost had been cleared out. The house was begging to be renovated.

‘Yes, please. I would so much love to live here with you for the rest of our lives.’

This time it was Will’s turn to kiss her and as he pulled her close she thought she heard that high-pitched scratching again but she blocked it out. Sending a message to whomever it was that she would deal with them when the time was right and she was ready, she leant forward, kissing Will back.

‘Eek, I’m so excited to live here I’d live in a caravan in the grounds until it’s ready if we have to.’

Will laughed. ‘If we have to, we can stay with my dad and Lily. I’m not too keen on caravans. Wait until you see the back garden; there’s an orchard full of fruit trees and over an acre of pasture land, so if you ever fancied owning a horse, now’s your chance.’

‘I’ve never really been the horsey type but I might agree to some chickens and a potbellied pig.’

They went out and as Will locked the front door Annie saw a shadow pass over the bedroom window they had just been looking out of. She looked up and strained her eyes but there was no one there, or so she hoped because she didn’t want to have her chance of a happy ever after spoiled by some restless spirit.

Chapter Four

Annie had promised Lily she would call in on her way home from work to meet the new housekeeper that Tom had agreed to before they had let him leave the hospital. Tom had accused Will and Lily of blackmail but eventually he had said yes. He had told Will when they were alone that he’d only put up a fight because he didn’t want Lily to think he didn’t think she could cope. Tom and Will both knew quite well that she could cope but Tom wanted to be able to spend as much time with Lily as he could without her worrying about the cleaning or shopping.

Annie parked out the front of their house and sighed. It didn’t matter how many times she visited, she just couldn’t believe that someone could live in a place so beautiful, although the cottage that she and Will had just signed the contract for would one day look beautiful too, just not on such a grand scale. She walked up the stone steps and patted one of the stone lions that flanked the front door on the head. It was force of habit and one which tickled Will every time he saw her do it but he’d never teased her about it—well, not much. She rang the doorbell and waited patiently instead of using the key Lily had insisted she have in case she ever needed somewhere to hide and they weren’t in.

The door opened and Annie was surprised to see a woman around the same age as she was; she had envisaged an older woman wearing a black and white maid’s uniform opening the door. This tall blonde woman had a pair of black three-quarter jeans on, a black T-shirt and a duster in one hand and tin of polish in the other.

‘Hello, you must be Amelia. My name is Annie. I’m Tom’s soon-to-be daughter-in-law.’

The woman’s mouth formed a smile but it never quite reached her eyes. ‘Yes, I am, I’ve heard a lot about you, Annie.’

She stepped to one side to let Annie pass. The way she looked at her made her feel uneasy.

‘They’re in the library.’

And then she walked away, back to whatever it was she was polishing, leaving Annie to it. Annie didn’t like her but had no idea why. She’d never seen her before in her life and wondered why she felt so strongly about the woman. She was blonde and pretty with a look of Laura, one of Will’s work colleagues who was now dead, so that might be why. Although she and Will had got over the almost one-night stand he never had with Laura it still plagued her on the odd occasion. She walked along the hall until she reached the library door and knocked. Tom’s voice told her to come in and she opened the door, surprised to see Tom sitting at the desk and Lily sitting on the chair. Annie walked over and bent down to kiss Tom’s cheek. She grinned at Lily.

‘How are you feeling today, Tom? I hope you’re being a model patient.’

‘I’d be a lot better if people would stop fussing over me.’

He looked at Lily when he spoke and she rolled her eyes at him. ‘You’re such a crank, Tom Ashworth; if I didn’t love you I wouldn’t want to be with you because you’re driving me mad, as well you know with all your moaning.’

Lily winked at Annie and left the room.

‘Sorry, Annie, we were just in the middle of a discussion and Lily was losing, badly. She’s such a sore loser.’

‘Ah, well, most women are. What’s up; is it anything I can help with?’

‘Not really.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Lily doesn’t like our new housekeeper; she wants me to tell her we don’t require her services any more. I’ve told her she’s staying until I don’t need someone to run around after me and then she can do whatever she wants with her. I mean, we don’t know the girl and you can’t sack someone for giving off bad vibes, can you? Not that I can sense any, but super sleuth Lily can.’

Annie laughed. ‘You do know that a woman is nearly always right, don’t you, Tom, even when they’re not?’

‘I do—I’ve learnt that the hard way—but I also know when a woman needs a hand and Lily is too proud to ask for help so I’ve had to take the lead. She’ll get over it. I think she was expecting Mrs Doubtfire to walk in and take over the cleaning.’

He began to laugh and Annie joined him; it was the best sound she’d heard in ages. He was definitely on the mend.

Lily came back in with a tray filled with cups, saucers and a cafetière of fresh coffee. ‘Has he told you what I think?’

Annie nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘Well, what do you think?’

‘Ah, this has nothing to do with me so I’ll keep out of it if you don’t mind. It’s still early days. You can see how it’s going in a couple of weeks and then decide.’

Tom looked at his wife. ‘See? The voice of reason. Listen to the nice police officer; she talks very good sense.’

Lily poked Tom in the ribs then bent down and kissed his head. ‘You drive me mad, Tom.’

‘Yes, I suppose I do but you love me all the same.’

They changed the conversation to Apple Tree Cottage and what Tom thought of the plans they’d had drawn up by Jake’s partner Alex, who was an architect.

‘It’s a lovely old place; I think you and Will are going to be very happy in there. Now, how long do I have to practise lifting a glass to my lips without spilling a single drop of champagne at your wedding reception?’

‘Eight weeks—I can’t believe how fast it’s coming around. I’m so glad I have you to help with the planning, Lily, because I really haven’t got a clue.’

At the mention of the wedding Lily’s face brightened and a smile spread across it. Tom winked at Annie and sat quietly, listening to the plans Lily had to turn their back garden into a romantic fairy tale grotto. If it kept Lily happy it meant he was happy and he nodded along as the two women chatted about dresses, menus, guests and cake.

After an hour Annie stood up. ‘Sorry, I need to get going; Will has promised that he’ll be home in time for tea tonight so I want to be there to photograph the occasion.’

Tom laughed. ‘I never knew that two men could be so lucky to find such amazing women.’

Annie kissed them both. ‘I’ll let myself out.’

She walked to the door and opened it, surprised to see Amelia standing on the other side, her cheeks burning. She nodded at her and then walked to the front door and let herself out. There was definitely something she didn’t like about that woman and she hoped it wouldn’t turn into something bad.

***

Will walked through the front door as promised at ten past six and Annie pretended to faint.

‘Ha ha, very funny. Jake’s on his way. Apparently he and Alex have something they want to tell you and it can’t be done over the phone; it has to be done in person.’

‘What is it; did he say?’

‘Nope, it’s top secret; you have to be the first to know, before anyone else.’

‘I suppose we’ll find out soon enough. I called to see your dad on my way home; he looks so much better and he was very chatty. Lily is pissed off with him, though, about that Amelia.’

‘Ah, yes, the ice queen. She’s a funny woman. She didn’t crack a smile once when I was joking with her the other day. In fact she wouldn’t even look at me, apart from the odd sneaky glance. I’ll have to tell Stu that I’ve finally found a woman who doesn’t find me irresistible.’

‘That’s so vain, Will; I can’t believe you just said that. But yes, I suppose there are some women who won’t find you their type. Lesbians for one.’

‘You’re just jealous, Annie.’

He dodged the slap she aimed for his arm and grabbed hold of her, pulling her towards him. ‘But I only have eyes for you.’

‘Good, I’m glad about that because I can’t live without you. So what’s happening in the high profile world of CID this week—anything exciting?’

‘Not much, thank God. My department has had more excitement in two years than it has in the last twenty. Just the same old stuff really; the most exciting thing to happen this week was someone had their already broken petrol generator stolen from their shed by someone they already knew and identified.’

There was a loud knock on the door and Will opened it to see a beaming Jake and Alex standing on the other side. Jake was holding a bottle of champagne and offered it to Annie.

‘To what do we owe this pleasure?’

Jake stepped in, followed by Alex.

‘We wanted you to be the first to know. We’re going to be parents.’

Annie threw her arms around Jake, squeezing him tight and then Alex. ‘Aw, congratulations, but if you don’t mind me asking, how?’

Will stepped forward to shake their hands. ‘Congratulations, guys.’

Jake followed Annie into the kitchen. ‘What do you think—we kept it quiet, eh?’

‘You certainly did—have you found someone to be a surrogate?’

‘Oh, God, no, there are so many kids out there who need loving homes we put our names down to adopt last year and have been going through the process for months now. This morning we got told that a three-month-old baby girl needed a home sooner rather than later. I can’t wait! I never thought I’d say this but I guess looking after you has made me broody.’

Annie stared at him. ‘What are you trying to say—that I’m like some big kid?’

Alex pulled a face at Will and the pair of them began talking about the latest football results, neither of them wanting to get involved.

‘Of course not, Annie, but I do get to babysit you a lot and I’m just saying it made me realise how much I like taking care of people.’

Annie kept her temper in check, not wanting to spoil what was obviously an important day for both of them, but Jake had a knack of putting his size twelve feet in his mouth without thinking almost every time he opened it.

‘That’s okay then. I’ll let you off and I suppose that you are a very good babysitter.’

The tension in the room dissipated and Will felt his shoulders relax. He popped the cork on the champagne bottle and poured it into the four glasses he had just taken from the cupboard, handing Alex one first.

He downed it and smiled. ‘You have such a way with words, Jake, I’m surprised anyone even bothers speaking to you most of the time.’

‘I do, Alex; it’s like a gift from the gods.’

This made all four of them laugh. You couldn’t stay mad at Jake – well, not for very long. Annie wondered if she would ever have such news to tell her friends and, judging by the look on Will’s face, she thought that one day she might. He was looking very wistful into his champagne glass.

‘Here’s to Jake and Alex, who are going to be amazing parents.’

Will toasted them and then downed his drink as well.

1782

Betsy didn’t watch the cart which brought her mother’s coffin to the front door; she didn’t want to see it. Mrs Whitman had been the village’s local layer of the dead for years and had gone in to wash and dress her mother in her Sunday best, ready to be laid into the coffin. The funeral was not for another three days but she felt as if she had already outstayed her welcome here, at the Whitmans’ house; tonight she must go back home and sleep in her own bed. She was tired and hoped this would make her sleep and forget the fact that her mother’s body was lying downstairs, slowly rotting away. She wasn’t sure whether it was guilt she’d felt or relief when the doctor had said she had bled to death from a burst blood vessel and there was nothing Betsy could have done to stop it. She had thanked him, knowing fine well it was nothing of the sort, but she didn’t want him to suspect her of any wrongdoing. Mrs Whitman and two of her mother’s friends had been in and cleaned the house from top to bottom, ready for Betsy to go home. They had offered to go back in with her but she had told them, ‘No, thank you.’ They had done more than enough.

It was dusk by the time they had finished and Betsy said goodbye to them as they sat around Mrs Whitman’s small kitchen table drinking tea. She went to her own house and paused at the front door; on the step was a bunch of freshly picked meadow flowers and a note. Bending to pick them up, she smiled to see Joss’s name on the note. How sweet of him to have taken the time to bring them. Forgetting all about her deadly crime, she went into the house and over to the sink where, on the kitchen windowsill, there was a glass jar. Joss was so tall and handsome; he had such a sweet smile. Her mother had rarely smiled at Betsy, even as a child, whereas Joss grinned the moment he saw her, making her feel special. No one had made her feel like that since her father had died and she liked it.

Humming to herself, she filled the jar with water and put the flowers inside. Turning to put them on her small kitchen table, she gasped when she heard a groan come from behind the curtain where her mother’s bed was. Her fingers slipping on the wet glass, she almost dropped the jar, just managing to put it down before it fell to the floor and smashed into a million pieces. She stood still, her head cocked to the side, listening for the sound again. It was dark in the cramped room and she really needed to light some candles but she was afraid to move. Behind the curtain, she could see the outline of the wooden coffin containing her mother’s corpse. How could this be—had she not been told herself that the woman was dead? The doctor had said that she was dead—maybe she had just been in a deep sleep and not dead at all. Betsy did not dare to move and stood there waiting, but there was no more noise so she convinced herself it had been her imagination then set about washing her hands and lighting candles. The curtain was drawn and there was no way on this earth she would open it and look at her mother’s cold body. Mrs Whitman had placed fresh flowers around the kitchen and the sweet fragrance filled the air. Betsy took a candle and made her way up the stairs, as far away from the coffin as she could get.

Upstairs, she changed into her white cotton nightdress and climbed into the cold bed; she settled herself down and pulled the soft blanket up to her face. Her eyelids felt so heavy, she was glad for small mercies and leant across to the wooden bedside table and blew out the candle. She closed her eyes at the same time so she did not have to see the shadows which filled the corners of her room. Within no time at all she was asleep, too tired to dream.

The next thing she knew, the clock in the kitchen chimed three and Betsy opened her eyes; she had been restless for the last half an hour, too tired to wake up, but then she heard the scraping noise. This was different to the mice she could sometimes hear scurrying around up in the attic; it was much heavier, as if someone was moving a piece of furniture around downstairs. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled as she realised that someone was in her house. The sharp sound of breaking glass made her flinch. Scared beyond anything she had ever felt in her life, she summoned the courage to get out of bed to go and see who it was. She felt around for the candle and managed to light it on the third attempt. Who would be so disrespectful to break into her home with her mother’s dead body still inside? Opening her bedroom door, she took a step forward onto the small landing and froze. The dragging sound was approaching the stairs and every hair on her arms began to stand on end.

‘Who’s there?’ Her voice wavered and she did not feel very brave as whatever it was continued to move in her direction.

‘I will scream if you come near me. Get out of this house at once before I open the window and scream until everyone in the village comes running to see what is happening.’

There was no reply but the dragging sound ceased. Betsy began to breathe a little slower. Whoever it was had gone, scared at her threats. She would give them time to leave the house and then she would go down to see what they had been doing. There were some rascals in the village but she did not think any of them would be so low as to come into her house when she was all alone in the middle of the night. She counted to one hundred and was about to step forward when the dragging started again, this time quicker and in the direction of the stairs. Terrified, she stepped back then turned to run into her bedroom, but as she turned she caught a glimpse of the figure that was now at the bottom of the stairs. It was almost bent double, wearing her mother’s funeral clothes. She ran into her bedroom and slammed the door shut, throwing her back against it, and began to scream.

It was Seth, Mrs Whitman’s son, who came to see what was happening. He hammered on the front door and she ran to the bedroom window and leant out.

He looked up at her. ‘Blimey, Betsy, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost. What’s the matter with you? Screaming loud enough to wake the dead up yonder in the churchyard!’

She whispered, ‘There’s someone in the house, standing at the bottom of the stairs. Please help me.’

He rattled the door handle but it was locked. ‘I can’t get in; it’s locked up tight. Did you leave a window open—how did they get in? I’ll go fetch my dad; he might be able to get the door open.’

‘No,’ she shouted after him and he turned back to look up at her face.

‘Well, what am I to do?’

‘Please don’t go, don’t leave me. Kick the door in and if you cannot then break a window. I don’t care as long as you come inside and chase away whoever is downstairs. I’m so scared.’

He bent down and ran at the door with his shoulder as hard as he could. The door, which was old and not in a very good state of repair, cracked and then splintered and he fell through it onto the cold stone floor of the kitchen. He couldn’t see much because of the stars which were flashing in front of his eyes. Betsy shouted down to him and he dragged himself up onto all fours. He squinted as his vision adjusted to the dark and looked around. There was no sign of anyone standing at the bottom of the stairs or anywhere else and he shouted to her, ‘Everything is all right; there is no one in here…well, except for you and me, oh, and your mother.’

Betsy ran down the stairs and threw herself into his arms. ‘Oh, my Lord, I have never been so scared. Thank you.’

She lit two more candles and looked around the room. The flowers she had placed on the kitchen table were now lying on the floor in a damp puddle amongst the broken glass of the jar she had put them in.

‘Look—see, someone was in here and it looked as if they were wearing my mother’s clothes. Please take a look inside her coffin and make sure she is still wearing her best dress.’

Seth squirmed but then did as she asked; he didn’t want her to tell everyone he was afraid of a dead body. Picking up a candle, he walked over and drew back the curtain. He paused and wrinkled his nose at the smell. Stepping closer, he looked down into the coffin then stepped away again and turned to Betsy.

‘Your mother is still wearing her Sunday best that she wore to church every week. Are you sure you weren’t having a bad dream? I mean, you’ve had a shock and all that; it’s bound to have been playing on your mind.’

Betsy, who had finished sweeping the broken glass, turned to look at him. Could it have been a dream or maybe it had been her guilty conscience? You couldn’t just take another person’s life and not expect to be affected by the matter. She nodded her thanks to him but she knew deep down that it had been no dream. How had the jar been smashed? There was no wind tonight and they had no animals in the house, not even a rat would be interested in a jar of flowers. She didn’t want to stop in this house a minute longer.

‘Please can I come back with you? I don’t want to be in here on my own.’

He looked across at the coffin and then at Betsy. She was only two years older than him and he tried to imagine how it must feel to have to share a house with just your dead mother and a cold chill ran down his back.

‘Course you can, but you’ll have to stay on the chair downstairs. I don’t want my mother accusing me of things that are not true.’

She frowned at him, too wrapped up in her own world to realise what he was trying to say, then she nodded. Too scared to look in the direction of the coffin, she left the house and shut the door behind her, locking it and locking her mother inside.

Mrs Whitman was already awake when they went inside and she took one look at Betsy’s white face and went across and held her.

‘Child, you can stay here until they take your mother away and bury her. I never thought it through. I’m so used to the dead, they don’t bother me one little bit, but this is the first time you have had to deal with it and I should have been a bit more considerate.’

The relief which washed through Betsy was enormous and she would be eternally grateful to this woman who had shown her more kindness in the last few days than her mother had her entire life.

The day finally came for the funeral and as they all lined up along the front street watching the coffin get loaded onto the handcart Betsy had to stop herself from smiling. She was finally going to be free of that awful woman and she could go back into her own home and sleep in her own bed. The villagers who had lined up along the square all walked behind the cart as it was pushed through the narrow streets to the church. Betsy noted that Joss was standing outside the pub with his cap in his hands and his head bowed. She turned her head to look back at him and as he stared at her she gave him what she hoped was a sad smile. Now in his eyes they both shared the same pain in their hearts: he had lost his wife and she her mother. Even though Betsy was glad to be free of her burden she would never let Joss know that because he genuinely grieved for his wife. She hoped he would still be there after the funeral because she very much wanted to talk to him.

The church service was short and the burial even shorter. As the priest said his parting words she stepped forward to throw down a bunch of daisies she had picked this morning from the fields at the back of the house and whispered, ‘I’m sorry, Mother, but you have to rest in peace and leave me alone now. I have my own life to live.’ Betsy stayed until the last and watched as her neighbours and the other villagers filed out of the church gate, down the steep steps until she was on her own. She felt a warm hand on her shoulder and turned to see Joss standing behind her.

‘Come on, Miss Betsy, there is nothing more you can do now.’

She smiled at him and nodded. ‘I do believe you are right, Joss. Will you take me to the pub so I can have a drink to toast her and drown my sorrows at the same time?’

She reached out and clasped his hand. At first he wasn’t sure what to do but then he gripped it gently and together they left the grave and walked back towards the pub. It was busy inside, the locals loving nothing more than a funeral as a good excuse to not do any work and drink ale all day. She sat on a chair in the corner and waited while Joss went to the bar to get her a drink. He came back with one each and then he sat down next to her. The next couple of hours went past in a blur and Betsy got drunker and drunker until she could not stand straight.

When Mrs Whitman brought her back she nodded at Joss. ‘I think you should take her home, Joss, make sure she’s tucked up in bed and lock the door behind you.’

He nodded. He knew that Mrs Whitman trusted him but he did not know if he trusted himself; she was all he could think about until an image of his wife would appear in front of his eyes and remind him he was a married man. He stood up and helped Betsy to her feet.

‘Come on, Betsy. I think it’s time you and me went home now.’

Betsy began to laugh. ‘Why, Joss, are you finally propositioning me? I thought the day would never come.’

His cheeks began to burn but he grinned at the same time. ‘Not as such. I just want to make sure you get home safely. Seth told me about the other night and how you thought there was an intruder in your house.’

He took hold of her arm and walked her towards the front of the busy pub and out of the door into the cobbled street. It was dusk now and he really should get back to his children; he’d been gone all afternoon. He walked Betsy across the village square and towards her house. They went inside and he began to light some candles and close the windows, which had been left open to air the house through and get rid of the smell of death. She stumbled as she walked across the room to where there was a curtain drawn across; tugging it open, she nodded at the empty bed then turned back to him.

‘Are you going to tuck me in, Joss, make sure I’m safe?’

He nodded, not sure if he should be taking a young woman upstairs to her bedroom, but he didn’t want her falling. As she stumbled her way to the top and into her bedroom he followed her. She began to undress and once more he felt his cheeks begin to burn and he turned around to face the wall until she had put her got into bed. He felt her warm hands wrap around his waist and, as he turned to face her, she hugged him.

‘Thank you, Joss. Today you have been my protector and I like it. I like it very much. If I can ever repay the favour I will.’

‘You are very welcome, Betsy. Grief is a terrible thing.’

Before he could finish what he was saying she stood on her tiptoes and put her soft lips against his much rougher ones. He paused, knowing this was wrong, but then he pushed the thought to one side and kissed her back. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she didn’t stop and he didn’t want her to. Scooping her up, he carried her over to the bed and laid her down, climbing on next to her. His hands ran up and down her legs and he marvelled at how soft her skin was and how good she smelt. She began tugging at his trousers and he wanted nothing more than to bury himself inside her but he stopped, guilt at the thought of his dead wife and his two boys who were waiting for him back at the farm making everything which had seemed so wonderful only seconds ago feel so wrong.

He pulled himself off her and stood up. ‘I’m sorry, Betsy, I really am. I shouldn’t have acted like that with you, especially when you are so upset.’

‘Joss, now is not the time to take the moral high ground. I want you and I know you want me…well, you did a minute ago.’

She reached out and let her fingers trail over the front of his trousers.

‘Yes, I do want you, I did want you, but I have to get home to my boys. They will be wondering where I’ve got to. They need me.’

Betsy felt a cold shard of jealousy stab straight through her heart. He thought the little bastards were more important than her and what she would have let him do to her would have made most men’s dreams come true. Her eyes narrowed but she said nothing, just nodded.

He fastened his trousers and tucked his shirt back in. ‘I will come and see you tomorrow; you get some sleep.’

And with that he turned and left her alone in her bed. She waited until she heard him close the front door and then she screamed and hit her fists against the pillow in frustration, hatred forming in the pit of her stomach against nine-year-old twin boys she had never even met. They would not get in the way of what she wanted—and what she wanted was their father and his big house. The alcohol began to make her brain foggy and her eyes began to close. She drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a big cottage to live in, with just her and Joss and no horrid children running around in the garden spoiling her life.

Chapter Five

Annie handed a plate of scrambled egg on toast to Will and a mug of coffee, then she sat opposite him with her coffee.

He looked up at her. ‘Are you okay? It’s just you were tossing and turning so much in your sleep last night I thought you were doing an aerobics class.’

She laughed. ‘Maybe that’s why I’m so knackered this morning then. I’m fine, thanks. Just a bit tired. I keep having the same nightmare—I’m running away from a group of men who are chasing me but, before I find out what happens, I always wake up at the same part.’

‘Well, I hope it wasn’t me you were running from!’ He reached out for her hand. ‘You’re not having second thoughts about the wedding, are you? I understand if you are. I know you had a crap time with Mike. Plus it’s all been blown up way out of proportion, hasn’t it? I know Lil means well, but honestly, dancing lessons so we get the first dance right is going a little bit over the top if you ask me. What’s wrong with a fumble in the dark and a bit of drunken swaying from side to side? I can ask my dad to tell her to take a step back if you want?’

‘Don’t be daft. I want to be Mrs Ashworth more than I want anything in this whole world. There is no comparison between you and Mike; you could never be like him if you tried, and yes, the dancing lessons are a bit too far but she’s only trying to help. She wants it to be perfect and so do I. The first time round, it was more a marriage of convenience really. A quick “I do” in the register office and then back to the pub for pie and peas, all to get away from my mother. There’s just so much going on at the moment that I don’t know what to think about first. Alex and Jake are coming to the cottage with me this afternoon to go over Alex’s plans with the builders again. It comes in handy having an architect as a friend; he’s saved us a fortune.’

‘I know and he’s so good; I didn’t recognise the downstairs when I called a couple of days ago—it’s really taking shape. Are you happy with it?’

‘I love it; it’s everything I’ve ever dreamt of and more. Thank you.’

‘Don’t thank me; you own just as much of it as I do. I just want you to be happy, Annie, for us to be happy and spend the rest of our lives together.’

She stood up and walked around to where he was sitting and wrapped her arms around him, kissing him on the cheek. ‘I am happy, Will, in fact I’ve never been so happy.’

She left to go and get ready, put a bit of make-up on so she didn’t look like the Bride of Frankenstein, as Jake so lovingly called her. Will shouted goodbye as he went out of the front door and she ran to the bedroom window to knock on it and wave to him, blowing him a kiss. She tried not to think about the dreams that were threatening to take over but it was hard and they scared her because they were so real. Every morning she woke up at the same point, just as she fell over the rock and down the embankment into the icy-cold river. In a way she wanted to know what happened next: did she hit her head and die or did the men with the dogs catch up with her? Whatever it was and whoever the woman was, it must have been terrifying for her, all alone and being chased like a criminal. It never entered Annie’s mind that the woman might have committed some heinous act and that was the reason she was being chased.

She got herself ready and then spent the next couple of hours browsing the Internet for wallpaper and furnishings. She couldn’t wait until the house was ready for the finishing touches. She’d already started painting the bedrooms as they had needed the least work doing to them. She decided to let Jake and Alex follow her up to the house in their car so she could stop behind to finish painting the master bedroom. She had picked out a soft grey paint for the walls and had ordered lemon accessories so it wasn’t too girly for Will.

***

Tom was sitting up in bed. He hadn’t slept well last night so Lily had insisted he had to stay in bed until he’d had a couple more hours’ sleep. She walked into the bedroom carrying a breakfast tray even though it was mid-morning. She placed it on the bed and bent and kissed his forehead.

‘Morning, sleepyhead—who said they’d never go back to sleep? You were snoring before I’d finished in the bathroom.’

‘You’re not always right, maybe just now and again.’

‘Do you mind if I go and do some bits of stuff for the wedding? I said I’d go and see the florist and a couple of other people.’

Tom knew that Lily was having more fun planning this wedding than either Will or Annie but they’d both assured him they were fine with it.

He nodded. ‘Yes, I think I can manage without my nursemaid for a couple of hours.’

She kissed him again. ‘There’s a letter—well, it looks more like a card—for you on the tray. Probably a get well one. I hope it’s not from a secret admirer!’ She turned and left him to it.

Tom looked down at the tray. She’d already poured his tea and buttered his toast so he wouldn’t struggle too much. He picked up the envelope and ran his butter knife along it. It was a pale pink card decorated with balloons and a baby’s pram, with ‘Congratulations on the birth of your baby girl’ written across the front. He frowned and picked up the envelope to check it had actually been sent to him. The name and address were written by hand in block capitals but it was definitely his name it was addressed to. He opened the card and a small black and white photo fluttered onto the floor.

Dear Daddy,

I don’t think Mummy ever told you about me. I’m a big girl now and ever so lonely. Mum died last year and I’m all on my own. In fact, I’ve always been on my own.

It’s time I had a family. It would be nice to meet you and my brother one day soon. You don’t know me but I’ve been watching you all for some time now and I feel as if I know you all. I hope you’re feeling better?

Love me

Xxx

Tom felt the tea he’d just drunk bubbling in his stomach as memories of an illicit affair that had only lasted one week thirty-five years ago filled his mind. He’d stopped it not long after it began because he couldn’t do it to Sarah, his wife, and he’d come to realise pretty quickly that although Emma had been a fun, wild, sexy girl she was also completely mentally unstable. Surely she hadn’t got pregnant and had a child and kept it from him?

His hands began to shake and he felt as if he was going to be sick. He pushed the tray to one side and tried to get out of bed to go to the bathroom. In his hurry, he slipped and knocked the tray, which fell to the floor with a clatter, but he didn’t try to pick it up; instead, he bent down and picked up the grainy black and white Polaroid photo that he hadn’t seen before and he limped across to the bathroom, where he slammed the door shut and began retching over the toilet bowl. The housekeeper came running up the stairs to check that he hadn’t fallen out of bed or collapsed again. She took one look at the overturned tray and broken china which had spilt onto a small white envelope and grinned. Daddy hadn’t taken it too well, by the look of things.

She knocked on the bathroom door. ‘Mr Ashworth, are you okay?’

‘Yes, sorry about the mess. I’ll clean it up in a minute.’

She nodded to herself but set about cleaning it up anyway; it was her job to help with the mess and to look after him and she took it very seriously. Almost as seriously as her plans to kidnap her half-brother and hold him for ransom.

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