House of Shadows (27 page)

She looked up at me then and laughed. ‘Which tribe have you joined, Riana?'

‘What?'

‘You're painted up like an Indian brave.'

I hurried to the mirror in the hall and burst out laughing. But then I noticed Mrs Ward's face, reflected behind me, and there was a strange, almost hostile, look in her eyes. ‘Do I look that bad?' I asked, and she smiled and the image altered. She was once again the Mrs Ward I knew – never one to give of herself, but loyal and hard working and reliable. ‘Anything wrong Mrs Ward?' I turned to her, and she looked down at her shoes. All I could see was the crown of her grey hair, smoothed down tidily as always.

‘It's Rosie,' she said. ‘She's coming back home.'

‘Oh.' I hesitated. ‘Aren't you pleased?'

‘She says she wants to be free again and young and lovely. She's fed up with being a slave for a man and his impossible family. Her words, not mine.'

I didn't really know what to say. ‘She can come here, of course.' I swallowed hard. I could imagine Rosie disrupting the place, flirting and arousing the ire of all the respectable village wives.

‘Oh, I don't think that would be wise, Riana,' Mrs Ward surprised me by saying. ‘I think she'll stay in London – for a while, anyway.'

‘In London? Oh, good.' I felt relieved. I didn't know if I could cope with Rosie's overenthusiastic presence in the house. ‘What will she do there?'

‘Doubtless she'll meet some gullible man. In the meantime, she'll wait on tables, be a cook, something of that sort.'

I didn't want to enquire further, and fortunately just then there was a knock on the door and the tooting of a horn outside in the yard. ‘Looks like more guests are arriving,' I said, sighing heavily. ‘We'll talk later if you want, Mrs Ward. And don't worry about Rosie, she'll be all right.'

‘I'm not worried about Rosie,' Mrs Ward said bluntly. ‘I'm worried about that baby of hers.'

It was good to have the old colonel, Betty, and all my guests arrive and fill the house. Soon the dining room blazed with candles and lamplight and happy diners were drinking wine from sparkling glasses and eating the good food Mrs Ward and Treasure had prepared.

Now the whole house was wired for electricity. It was long overdue, but I knew my guests preferred the old-fashioned lighting that heightened the atmosphere of the old mansion. It was also conducive to ghosts, so it seemed, with the apparent ‘happenings' on the landings.

I never saw ghosts when I was alone; I never felt threatened by anything other-worldly in my house. It was the humans I feared and mistrusted.

‘How is your romance progressing?' Plump Betty pressed against William with her large bosoms.

‘Not very well, as it happens.' William was unusually terse.

Betty wouldn't allow matters to rest there. ‘I'm so sorry to hear that, but you are among friends here. You can talk freely to us.'

Colonel Fred leaned forward. ‘While that is true, Betty, some things are best left alone, don't you know?' He held the brandy bottle towards William. The colonel had no truck with wine – ‘newfangled nonsense' he called it. He loved his brandy and insisted on bringing his own brand, which he always took to his room. He saw me glance at him and the bottle and smiled. ‘You see, dear Riana, I have my own spirits to keep me warm of a night. Try some, William. It will help you to relax and sleep.'

William accepted, more for the sake of peace than because he wanted to drink the brandy, but he continued to share the brandy for the rest of the evening. Later, I winked at the colonel, as I could see William was getting merrier and relaxing very well against Betty's plump shoulder. Betty herself was flushed with success. She'd always had a fancy for William.

There were no ghost sightings that night so instead the gathering became a party, with someone putting the gramophone on and playing dance music. I helped the colonel roll back the carpet to reveal the wooden floor, and he took a new guest, a Mrs Lampeter, in his arms and performed a creditable slow foxtrot. Betty inveigled William to dance, and he was propelled round the room with Betty's full bosom projecting into his skinny chest.

I heard the front door open, and my heart beat faster as I hoped Tom had come to see me at last, but it was Justin. He entered the room, immaculately dressed in a dinner suit and a gleaming white shirt with a black bow tie. He held out his hand, and reluctantly I accepted it. ‘What brought you here?' I asked none too graciously as we danced.

He smiled down at me and bent to kiss my cheek. ‘A very beautiful lady,' he said. I gave him a wry look, and he shook his head, laughing at me. ‘No, dear Riana, not you, lovely though you are. Diane wanted me to ask you to give her more paintings. It seems she has a commission for you, so I thought I'd drive down straight away.'

I frowned. Diane knew that Justin wanted my house. Why would she speak to him about coming to see me? ‘I think you must be mistaken,' I said icily. ‘Diane would contact me herself if she wanted me. I doubt if she'd ask you, of all people, to bring me a message.'

‘Ah, but I have won her over.' Justin sounded smug. ‘She believes I am the true heir to Aberglasney, and she thinks we should try to get along. It would be in your best interests, seeing as we will be married as soon as you come to your senses.'

‘Don't be so silly!' I pushed him away from me. ‘I don't even know you why you imagine I should take your word for anything, and why on earth would I want to marry you?'

‘Expediency, my dear Riana. We could live here together, and we would be very happy, I'm sure.'

‘I take it you have no money and you would let me pay to do up the house and live on my earnings in the meantime. Now, if you are really the legal heir then go fight your case in the courts. Until then, leave me alone.'

I left my guests to party, and on the stairs I encountered Betty leading William to his downfall. She had a wide smile on her face as William fondled her plump rear. There was no sign of ghostly images as I made my way to my bedroom. I lay fully clothed on the quilt and closed my eyes. I could scarcely hear the music from the drawing room, but I wished all my guests a happy night and smiled as I thought of William, who was about to learn what passion was all about. And then I fell asleep.

THIRTY

O
nce my guests had departed on the Monday morning I dressed and took the train to Swansea and then on to London. I had to see Diane to find out what she was thinking of, encouraging Justin to come to Aberglasney!

Diane was not tucked away in her little sitting room, mourning her dear Mr Readings, but instead she was out visiting his grave, so the maid told me. I thought how fortunate Diane was to still have maids and a cook. I had only Mrs Ward and Treasure, and I was lucky to have them. So I waited, enjoying a cup of real ground coffee instead of the usual Camp coffee I had at home. No doubt Mr Readings had purchased a stock of it before he died, and Diane had found it and was enjoying her usual luxuries.

At last she returned, and in attendance, much to my surprise, was Rosie. Mrs Ward's daughter had changed drastically; she looked neat and respectable. She was struggling with brown paper bags bearing the names of the few good shops that had survived the war.

I put down my cup of very good coffee and hugged Diane. ‘Could we have a word in private, please?' I asked meekly. ‘Hello, Rosie, how are you?'

‘I'm very well, Miss Riana.' This was a Rosie I didn't know: demure, respectful, nicely dressed in a modern full skirt, and with her hair tied up in a ponytail. She looked what she was: a very young girl. Perhaps she'd changed her ways . . . or maybe it was all an act to fool Diane.

‘I'll take the bags upstairs.' She edged towards the door. ‘I'll be careful to hang everything up for you, don't worry.'

Diane sat down and took off her gloves. ‘I think I'll have a cup of coffee with you,' she said. ‘I feel a “telling off” might be on the cards.'

‘No,' I said. ‘Well, not exactly. I just don't want Justin popping into my house whenever he takes it into his head, that's all. Don't trust him, Diane. Now, tell me, where on earth did you come across Rosie?'

‘She just applied for a job, that's all. And as for Justin, he might well have a claim on your house. He is Edwin's son, after all.'

I decided to shelve the matter of Rosie; just now there were more important things to discuss. ‘But Justin is not
Beatrice's
son, and she's the one who sold me the house.'

‘Just take the document to the solicitor and find out for sure, that's my advice. Justin seems a decent enough young man to me – a little arrogant, maybe, but well intentioned and charming.'

‘Did he ever pay you a penny for any of the paintings he's bought?'

‘But Riana, he's broke so he never
buys
any paintings. He does some clerical work for me instead. I'm rather sorry for him, really, and if you don't want him I'll have him.' She was smiling, but I could see Justin had charmed her – just as he charmed and fooled everyone except me.

‘Well, until everything is sorted I want him to keep out of my way. I don't love him and won't marry him, not even for Aberglasney.'

‘Think about it,' Diane said. ‘He's handsome and partial to you, and in the old days many women married for expediency.'

‘A marriage of convenience, like in books!' I said scathingly. ‘Well, I have a career and a house that I've brought to life again. If Justin had a claim, why didn't he come forward when the house was little but a ruin, the gardens overgrown and the Americans stationed at the bottom of the garden?'

Diane lifted her eyebrows. ‘At the bottom of the garden? Like
fairies
in books!' She smiled with humour.

‘Very funny.' I sighed heavily. ‘I know I'm a fool, Diane, but I love Tom. Whatever he's done I can forgive him, if only he loves me as he says he does.'

‘Better have one willing suitor who wants to marry you than have a fly-by-night, excuse the pun, like Tom, an American pilot who might well go home as soon as he finds whatever it is he wants here. At the moment, he's conspicuous by his absence, isn't he?'

There was a gentle knock on the door, and Rosie peeped in. ‘Anything you want, Mrs Readings?' she asked.

I looked at Diane in surprise, and when the door closed behind Rosie I had to ask, ‘She's very polite to you, isn't she?'

‘She's a very good help, and I get on with her well enough.' Diane smiled. ‘Mind you, she did quote you as a reference.'

I rather took offence at that. ‘The cheeky little madam!'

‘I like the way she calls me Mrs Readings. She's about the only one who does.'

‘Why did you and he never marry before?' I asked.

‘I think dear Mr Readings wanted to keep his options open, dear. He had other “ladies” and I knew it, but I didn't question him on it. He would have been defensive, and I know he didn't want me to be possessive, so I pretended to be as unbothered by our arrangement as he was.' She hung her head. ‘But I was never content to remain a mistress – and then, at last, he asked me to marry him, and he died making me a widow almost immediately.' She stopped speaking and looked down at her pale long fingers, with her engagement ring and the band of gold sparkling up at her.

‘At least he gave you the ring as a promise,' I said comfortingly as I hugged her. Grief and loss were dreadful emotions. I felt them every time Tom walked in and out of my life.

‘We will have a quiet day today.' Diane lifted her head. ‘I'll rest if you don't mind and then tomorrow I will come with you to the solicitor in Swansea and we'll sort out the matter of the house.'

‘I already saw my solicitor,' I told her. ‘He told me that Aberglasney was indisputably mine.'

‘Best to be sure,' she insisted. ‘You know I'm good at business, Riana, and I'll read the bill of sale properly and ask to see Edwin's will as well.'

‘I understand Edwin didn't make a will.' I forced a smile. ‘Seems he didn't have time after he was accused of murder.'

We set out early the next day. Diane drove us with skill and speed through the bombed streets of London and out into the country, both of us quiet with our own thoughts until we reached Swansea.

A cart pulled by an old horse drew in beside us as Diane stopped the car alongside the curb outside the solicitor's office, the man shouting out in a raucous voice, ‘Rag and bones!' and handing out pennies and farthings for old rags or pots and pans. Anything he could make use of. As I stepped out of the car I could see the poor overladen horse jerk the cart into movement, the creature's head dipping up and down with the effort of moving the weight until the wheels began to roll freely along the street.

To my agitation, the door of the solicitor's office was locked. A policeman stood outside, and I looked up at him questioningly. ‘I had an appointment this morning to see Mr—' I got no further as the policeman held up his hand.

‘There's been an unfortunate incident in the building, madam. There are fatalities. You must go away. The building inside is unsafe.'

‘Fatalities?' I echoed his words and looked at Diane aghast.

‘I shall find out what's happened,' she said firmly. ‘I have a friend, a top man in the service. I will speak to him.' She took my arm and propelled me to a small, neat tea shop just around the corner from the solicitor's office, and I sat there stunned, meekly drinking tea and waiting for her to come back.

After my third pot of tea, Diane returned. She was pale, and I quickly called for another cup and poured her some hot tea. ‘It's bad,' I said, and she nodded.

‘There was an explosion. Several people have been killed. The police think it was an unexploded bomb from the war. I'm sorry, Riana. I should have come with you before now.'