Page 56 of A Year at Appleyard Farm
Cora sighed. ‘Well, I can see that you’re not going to give up pestering me about that, although I’m not so sure that now is the right time to be talking about it.’
‘Oh, I don’t think Christopher will mind,’ Merry replied, a twinkle catching in her eye. ‘And if you think about it, maybe it’s exactly the right time.’
‘Well, he would certainly approve of what you’re doing here, that I do know.’
‘I’m glad you think so.’ Merry smiled wistfully. ‘It’s so strange when you think of all the unhappiness this house must have seen recently, and yet it’s never felt like a sad house to me, particularly now.’
‘Do you believe in ghosts, Merry?’
The question surprised her a little, although she supposed it was entirely logical, given what they were discussing. It was hard to put into words how she felt exactly. She didn’t think she was a believer as such, but neither did she discount things out of hand. She did believe in instinct, or fate, and at times things had felt very right to Merry, and at others, very wrong.
‘I wouldn’t exactly call them ghosts,’ she said, ‘but I do think that sometimes strong emotions or energies can be left behind. Maybe that’s all ghosts are, anyway, I don’t know. I’ve been in places sometimes that I couldn’t wait to get away from, the hairs have literally stood up on the back of my neck although I’ve never known why, and yet at other times I’ve felt profoundly peaceful.’
‘And is this how you feel about Five Penny House?’
Merry tipped her head as if listening out for something. ‘Kind of. Although actually now I feel energised by it. Maybe the time of year has something to do with it, but I can’t wait to get the shop open and see how wonderful everything looks. Despite all the setbacks, I sense a real optimism about things. I don’t think Christopher is haunting us, or anything like that, but like you say, I think perhaps he approves of what we’re trying to do.’
Cora took another sip of her tea and nodded at Merry’s words. ‘You know, I always felt as if Christopher had become stuck, in life I mean. He was such a vibrant man when I first knew him, the whole family were, and you only have to look at his art to know that, but in later years he became so deeply buried in his grief that that part of him became lost, and he could never seem to find his way back to it. I think he meant to, he just didn’t know how.’
‘He must have been devastated by his wife and daughter dying. I can’t imagine how you could ever recover from something like that.’ Merry gave an involuntary shudder. ‘I hope I never have to find out.’
‘It was all so sudden, I suppose. That was the hardest thing,’ added Cora. ‘One minute Catherine was here, and the next she wasn’t. Just a simple cold, and to start with she didn’t even seem that poorly, but within days it had turned to pneumonia. She died in her sleep, two days later.’
Merry’s eyes filled with tears, thoughts of the last few days rushing back to her. She raised a hand to her mouth in shock at the thought of what could so easily have been her devastation. Her heart went out to the man she’d never known but was beginning to understand a little better.
‘Perhaps we should leave this for another day,’ said Cora gently. ‘It must be a hard thing for you to hear so soon after Robyn’s illness.’
But Merry shook her head. ‘No, I want to know. Robyn is fine now, but it makes me realise how lucky we are…and how much I want to bring Christopher and his family back to life, if only through his art. I can’t understand why his family don’t seem to want to remember him; that he should be forgotten is the very worst thing.’
Cora fixed Merry with a grateful smile. ‘I think he would feel honoured to have someone do all this for him.’
Merry hoped so. She stole a glance at her watch, wondering how things were going in the village. It seemed ridiculous that in her head she should be asking for Christopher’s help to keep them safe, but that’s exactly what she was doing.
* * *
Freya looked at the sea of worried faces around her and wondered what else she could say to allay their fears. Apart from one younger couple, the occupants of all six houses that stood beside the village pond were elderly, and as she sat now in the lounge of the Apple Cart, she knew that the next half hour or so would be crucial in determining their future for the next few months.
The publican’s wife brought over another tray of drinks for them all, motioning Freya to one side with her head.
‘Bill has just gone over to help shift the last of their furniture,’ she whispered, ‘but he reckons they’ll be cutting it fine. Your young man and his brother are getting a winch thingy set up, but goodness knows how they’ll get the tree out; it’s stuck fast right underneath the bridge he said, and the water’s fair near to the top now.’
Freya tried to recall the strong warmth of Sam’s arms around her as she had wished them luck, just ten minutes ago, but already it seemed like an age had passed. She had tried to apologise for their argument, but Sam silenced her with a fierce kiss and a violent shake of his head. None of that mattered now he said, but it did to her. She had watched as he hurried back to Tom and Stephen, the rain-laden wind battering her face and felt the hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach get bigger and bigger.
‘It’s not just the furniture, though, is it?’ she replied, turning her attention back to the kind face in front of her. ‘It’s what damage the water will do to their homes. That lady in the green coat has lived there for over forty years she told me. Can you imagine how many memories are in that house? It doesn’t bear thinking about.’
‘No, that it doesn’t,’ came the reply. ‘Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that, and Daisy and all the others get to sleep soundly in their beds tonight.’ She touched Freya’s sleeve. ‘Come and sit back down by the fire and have something to drink. We’ve a bit of a wait ahead of us yet.’
Freya had wanted to stay outside with the others, but both Tom and Sam were forceful in their insistence that she stay away. She knew there was nothing she could do to help, and although standing by helplessly looking on would be almost unbearable, at least she would feel that she was supporting them somehow. The fact that they wanted her out of the way was chivalrous, but she also recognised that it meant she would not be around to see what they were really getting up to, and how dangerous it was. And that scared her more than anything.
She made her way back to the table and sat down with a bright smile. The small Yorkshire terrier that belonged to the couple in the third house down jumped onto her lap and Freya gratefully curled her fingers into its warm fur.
28
Stephen was adamant that he should be the one to go. It made more sense he argued. There was no way Tom was going, not with a wife and child, and Sam…Stephen didn’t need to say her name for Sam to know who he was referring to. Stephen had no dependents, and it was also his idea.
‘You know guys, none of us actually has to go,’ said Tom. ‘We’ve done the best we can for the folk whose houses will be in the firing line. What we should do is call the fire brigade and let them deal with it. I never intended that either one of you should volunteer to get the tree out.’
‘No, but you and I both know that these people don’t have that kind of time. I reckon we’ve got twenty minutes tops. The only tricky part is getting the tree strop over the branches, after that the winch will have no trouble.’ Sam fixed his brother with a steely stare. ‘And I’m going, Stephen. One, because like it or not I’m much fitter than you, and two, because the equipment is yours and you know how it works, you know the speed the winch goes and how to play the line out.’
