Читать книгу Sleeper’s Castle: An epic historical romance from the Sunday Times bestseller - Barbara Erskine - Страница 16

Nina Dysart arrived the following Friday evening. She stood for a few moments staring up at the house after she climbed out of her car then she made her way towards the front door.

‘Mum!’ Andy had heard the car. ‘Come in. It’s so good to see you.’ They exchanged a long warm hug.

Mother and daughter did not resemble one another. Andy was tall, her eyes grey, her hair light brown, shoulder length and curly. Her mother’s hair was white, cut short and neat, and her eyes an intense brown. While Andy’s clothes inclined towards the colourful and artistic, Nina was always immaculately dressed in carefully matched neutrals. She wasn’t as tall as Andy and her figure was petite, but there was no mistaking the fact that they were mother and daughter. Their mannerisms were similar, their voices blended, they both talked at once and then paused and laughed and both started again.

‘Oh, Mum, it’s so good to see you!’ Andy caught her mother’s hands and squeezed them. ‘I have missed you.’

Nina pulled free and gave her daughter a quizzical look. ‘You can’t have missed me so soon, darling. Not possible. So, what’s wrong? Have you made a ghastly mistake coming here?’

‘No!’ Andy’s denial was adamant. Then she paused. ‘No,’ she said again, less sure this time.

‘So, what’s wrong?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Supposing you show me round,’ Nina said. ‘Then you can give me an incredibly strong cup of coffee after that horrendous drive, then we will talk.’

Unloading the books almost defeated them. They brought in half a dozen cartons and stacked them in the living room. Andy stared round helplessly. ‘I’d forgotten I had so many. I hadn’t thought about shelves. I will have to have some made I suppose.’

‘Rubbish. Not in someone else’s house. Buy flat-pack. Have you got a handyman who can put them up for you? I think you mentioned a gardener?’

Andy gave a hollow laugh. ‘I don’t think I would dare ask him.’

‘Why?’ Her mother paused in the middle of what she was doing and stared at her.

‘He doesn’t seem to approve of my presence here. Don’t worry.’ Andy straightened her back with a groan. ‘I am capable of assembling a flat-pack. It can’t be that hard. In the meantime let’s pile the books round the walls in here.’ She glanced helplessly out of the window. There were at least four more boxes in her mother’s car.

It was like meeting old friends. Every few minutes she stopped to look at the book she’d just unpacked and run an affectionate hand over the cover. ‘I have missed all the mind, body and spirit stuff. It was such a passion of mine for so long.’ She gave Nina a wan smile.

‘Not everything about Graham was good for you,’ her mother put in tartly. ‘I know you loved him to bits and you worked well together, but he rode roughshod over so much that was you, my darling. He moulded you into his ideal woman.’

Andy wasn’t sure whether to be angry and amused. ‘You make me sound like a Stepford wife!’

‘No. But it was odd for you to cut such a large part of your own personality out of your life. He didn’t like animals, did he? So you didn’t have any pets. He wasn’t interested in history or old buildings. You used to do such wonderful paintings of ruins in landscapes, do you remember? And you loved visiting them. You used to cook; you adored cooking. With Graham, I know because you told me once, you ate out all the time or had snacks because he didn’t see the point of wasting time in the kitchen.’

Andy nodded ruefully. ‘Do you know, I’ve lost the instinct to cook. I have this beautiful Aga here and I haven’t done more than boil the kettle or heat up a can of soup.’

‘QED!’ Her mother stared round. ‘This lovely kitchen going to waste. Now that I know what I’m destined to have for supper I will insist tomorrow we go shopping and stock the larder, then you can start cooking. I want decent food while I’m here and you can practise on me.’

Andy sat up a long time after her mother had gone to bed, thinking over everything she had said. She was right. So much of what made Andy Andy was on hold, battened down somewhere at the back of her head. She thought about that wonderful feeling of freedom she had experienced on her first night here, the joy of going out into the garden and feeling the wind in her hair and the raindrops on her face. For a few moments she had become a wilder version of herself; a more authentic version. Then she had slid in her daydream to the garden in Kew, drawn inexorably back to civilisation.

She was sitting at the kitchen table, her back to the Aga, feeling its warmth a solid comfort gently enfolding her. She was thinking about her father. Her interest in the supernatural came from him. The solid acceptance of the weird and wonderful being a normal part of an amazingly varied and extraordinary world. She remembered as a child exploring old castles and abbeys with him. He was the one who had discouraged cameras and made her sketch instead. ‘That way, Andy, you capture the heart and soul of a place.’ Even when he remarried he found time to go on encouraging her. Nina, who had showed no bitterness at the break-up and seemed to accept the status quo with extraordinary equanimity, would pack her off on the train north where she would be welcomed into her father’s new family by his lovely Northumbrian wife, with first one then two then three new siblings, all boys, and all of whom she adored. They still got on well. She had missed them too. She had seen very little of her father in the last ten years. Perhaps Graham had taken his place. A father figure. She frowned. That was not a pleasant thought. She would get in touch with Rufus soon, re-establish ties, maybe go and see him.

Behind her the cat flap clicked and Pepper appeared. He trotted over to his empty food bowl, examined it and turned to look at her reproachfully. She smiled. ‘You are not going to try and persuade me you haven’t had your supper, my friend. I remember distinctly giving it to you because my mum watched me and she thinks you get too much to eat.’

Pepper turned his back on her, sat down and began washing his face. She was sure he understood a lot of what she said. Nina was right there too. She had missed having dogs and cats around her. It was wonderful to have a cat again, even on loan. And as Pepper had reminded her, she was here to look after him. If she was going to see her father again he would have to come down to see her.

Pepper yawned and without realising it she did too.

Still exhausted from their long ride Catrin lay back in another unaccustomed bed, staring up at another stranger’s ceiling and drifted off to sleep. Her dream was different this time; in it she was back at home; the violence and the shouting were gone. Sleeper’s Castle was quiet. In the silence she could hear the sound of the brook outside the window, enveloping her, wrapping her in the comfort of the darkness. For a while she lay without moving, then as the first birds began to sing across the cwm she rose from her bed. Her eyes were still closed as she walked towards the stairs. Her father was asleep in his own bed, for once snoring gently on his pillow stuffed with dried hops to soothe his dreams. Sleepwalking down the stairs and across the hall, she went towards the kitchen. The other woman was there, asleep at the table, her head cushioned on her arms.

In her dream Catrin stood looking at her for a long time without moving, then slowly she crept across the flagged floor towards her. Andy moved uncomfortably and reached out an arm without waking. Catrin stepped back sharply, watching. Andy didn’t move again, her breathing slow and regular. Once more Catrin approached and cautiously stretching out her hand she touched the corner of the table with the tips of her fingers. The table was plain scrubbed pine. The table in Catrin’s kitchen, the table where Joan prepared their meals, was made from a huge chunk of solid oak, criss-crossed with cuts from her cleaver as she prepared their meat and vegetables. Catrin stood still, holding her breath, then she turned and tiptoed back out of the kitchen.

Andy didn’t stir but somehow she was aware of the shadowy figure, seeing it cross the great hall and walk slowly up the stairs. In her dream Catrin climbed slowly back into bed and lay down. As she snuggled once more onto her pillow she gave a small sigh. The room was Andy’s room, the bed in the corner where Andy’s bed stood, the window the window Andy looked out of down to the moonlit garden below. She could see the mullions, trace the lines of the stone, the smooth curve of the chisel, the rough edges where the man who made them had drained his tankard of ale, smacked his lips and returned to work slightly the worse for wear.

Andy woke suddenly and sat upright, staring towards the window. There was a faint glimmer of daylight filtering into the room. There were curtains now, but the mullions were the same.

She had staggered up to bed only four hours ago after waking to find herself in the kitchen, her head cushioned on her arms. There had been no sign of Pepper and her neck was agonisingly stiff. She had forced herself to stand up, turn off the lights and head next door towards the stairs, then she had stopped, aware of a presence in the house. Her mother. Of course, her mother was asleep upstairs in Sue’s room.

She paused on the landing, listening. There was no sound from the other bedroom. Making her way to her own bed she slipped off her shoes and lay down under the duvet fully dressed. In seconds she was asleep.

She remembered the dream after a shower and a change of clothes next morning. The Catrin of her dreams had been standing staring down at Andy as she was asleep in the kitchen. She could see herself, unconscious, vulnerable, unaware, the young woman creeping towards her, extending her hand as if to touch her, then gently stroking the corner of the table instead. It had been so real. Catrin was younger than she had realised, perhaps seventeen or eighteen. She was slim beneath the bulky clothes, with rich chestnut hair slipping from beneath her linen coif and gentle concerned eyes.

‘You’re up early.’ Nina was already in the kitchen when she went downstairs. She was listening to the Today programme as she made breakfast. The table was laid. Pepper was sitting on the windowsill watching the proceedings with what looked suspiciously like approval.

Andy approached the table and held out her hand to touch it, stroking the corner lightly with her fingertips.

Nina turned off the radio. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘I dreamt there was a woman in here. I fell asleep where I was last night after you went to bed and she was standing watching me. She reached out to touch the table near my hand.’ Andy shivered. ‘It was strange. Very real. It was as if she was studying me; watching me. She’s called Catrin.’

Nina put the coffee pot on the table. ‘Get some of that down you. You were so exhausted last night I’m not surprised you dreamt vividly.’

‘I can’t help wondering if I was actually awake.’ Andy reached for the coffee.

‘Dreams can be incredibly real sometimes.’ Her mother produced two slices of warm toast and put butter and marmalade on the table.

‘I know. I’ve been having some truly violent dreams since I arrived here. Battles.’

‘That sounds like stress and exhaustion to me.’ Nina sat down opposite her. She surveyed her daughter’s face. ‘You don’t have to stay here, darling. I’ve told you before, you can always come home with me.’

‘No! No, I love it here!’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Absolutely sure.’ Andy hesitated. ‘It never even occurred to me that the house might be haunted until someone mentioned ghosts at a supper party I went to last week. Even then, I wasn’t worried. You know me.’ She smiled at her mother. ‘Catrin is part of my dreams, but I think she is a ghost as well.’ She paused. ‘If she is, if there are ghosts here, it’s interesting. It doesn’t bother me.’

‘You’re sure it doesn’t frighten you?’

‘No, it doesn’t.’

Nina screwed up her face. ‘As I reminded you, darling, this is not my department. I am impervious to ghosts. If you want to discuss it, you should ring your father. But my instinct is to leave well alone. Living up here completely alone is going to be quite enough of a challenge, I would have thought, especially as winter sets in. Have you thought about that? What you will do when it snows?’

Andy smiled, glad of the change of subject. ‘Sue left me a book of instructions. She has actually been a bit more organised than I thought. I suspect she wrote it all out when she first decided to let the house. She left it in the drawer with the cat food. She talks about stocking the freezer, getting an extra couple of months’ supply of logs, contacting the farmer who lives up the lane and who will plough it through with his tractor if it gets closed with snow. It all seems very efficient, and if dear old Sue, whose natural habitat is Bondi Beach, can hack it here, so can I.’

‘That all sounds very organised, as you say,’ Nina said, reassured. She leant forward purposefully. ‘Now, talking of being organised, what have you done about your job?’

Andy reached for a slice of toast. ‘Nothing.’

‘Why not?’

‘In case you hadn’t noticed, Mum, Graham is dead.’ Andy gripped her mug tightly with her fingers.

Nina ignored the comment. ‘You didn’t always work exclusively for Graham,’ she said crisply. ‘There are plenty of other people out there who would love you to illustrate their books. Thank God that’s a job you can do, even out here. Have you been in touch with Krista?’

Andy shook her head wordlessly. Speaking to her agent was something that hadn’t even crossed her mind.

‘God, Andy! You need a kick up the backside, darling.’ Her mother was incredulous. ‘Money doesn’t grow on trees. You’re going to have to live. I bet Sue isn’t paying the bills for this house. Even if you’re getting it rent-free – you are getting it rent-free, aren’t you?’ – she barely waited for Andy to nod before proceeding – ‘you’re going to have to pay the bills, pay for food, petrol, everything. And if necessary a solicitor. No!’ she raised her hand as Andy opened her mouth to protest. ‘You are not going to let that dreadful Rhona woman ride roughshod over you. You’ve had a couple of months to get over Graham’s death, and I know you feel you never will, but you have to pick yourself up and dust yourself off.’ She stopped. ‘Did you ever hear such a string of clichés! But I’ve always found that clichés are what people need when they’re in crisis. That is what they are for. One hasn’t time to think of bons mots. One needs a good cliché.’

Andy managed a laugh. ‘If anyone is riding roughshod, Mum it might be you.’

‘That’s what I’m here for. And is that your gardener outside? Who’s paying for him?’

‘Gardener?’ Andy looked, startled, at the window.

‘Tall, devilishly attractive man, carrying a spade over his shoulder.’

Andy suppressed a smile. ‘Bryn. That’s him.’

‘So, you had noticed he’s attractive?’ Her mother raised a quirky eyebrow.

‘Not till you said it just now,’ Andy protested. ‘I actually find him rude and unpleasant. He doesn’t like the look of me either, so I’m avoiding him.’ She bit her lip. ‘And you’re parked in his space so he’ll be even more rude and unpleasant. I wonder where he’s left his van. I don’t suppose there’s room for three out there.’

‘Perhaps he walked. It is a lovely day. Where does he live?’

Andy was silent while she thought. ‘Do you know, I haven’t a clue. I don’t even know his surname.’

Nina pulled a face. ‘I don’t much like the idea of someone like that wandering round the garden up here with you when you’re alone.’

‘Don’t be silly! I may not know him, but Sue obviously does. And so do my neighbours, so there’s nothing to worry about. And for goodness’ sake don’t rush out there and antagonise him or he will walk out on me and I’ll be left in the most awful hole!’

‘Literally,’ her mother commented with grim humour. ‘I won’t say a word, darling. But asking him about how he expects to be paid will give you an excuse to go out and have a word with him. Why not take him a coffee?’

‘I offered before and he said no.’

‘He might not say no this time.’ Nina was in management mode. She stood up, reached for a clean mug. ‘Does he look like a man who takes sugar? No. I would say not.’ She pushed the mug towards Andy. ‘Go.’

It wasn’t worth arguing. Andy pulled open the door and walked out into the wind and sunshine. ‘Bryn?’ He was pruning a hedge on the far side of the nearest bed to the house. She walked towards him and pushed the mug into his hands without giving him the chance to refuse. ‘I’m sorry if my mother is parked in your space. We weren’t expecting you. I have no way of knowing which days you come unless you tell me.’

He stared at her as if debating whether to reply or walk off, then he cupped his gloved hands round the mug and blew on it. ‘I don’t have a regular day. I come when the weather is right,’ he said. ‘If that bothers you, we can arrange something I suppose.’

‘Do you garden for other people round here?’ Andy asked curiously. ‘Is that the way you work it out with them?’

He nodded. He took a sip from the mug. ‘I work two or three days for Sue, then two days for Colonel Vaughan up at Tregarron Farm and one for the Peters on the far side of Capel-y-ffin. None of them mind when I turn up.’

‘Then I don’t either.’ Andy ventured a tentative smile. ‘I was just worried about your parking.’

‘There’s plenty of room, no problem. If people park carefully.’ Draining the mug, he handed it back to her. ‘Thank you.’

‘It’s a pleasure.’ She turned away then remembered. ‘By the way, I’m not sure what the arrangement is about paying you?’

‘Don’t worry about that either. Sue pays me by direct debit.’

She laughed. ‘I might have known she would be efficient. Good, I’m glad that’s all taken care of.’

‘So you should be. I’m expensive.’ He almost smiled, then he turned back to the pruning.

‘There,’ Nina said as she went back indoors. ‘That didn’t seem to hurt too much.’

Andy sat down at the table. ‘No. Not too much. Sue pays him by direct debit.’ She couldn’t contain another peal of laughter. ‘He’s probably a limited company!’

Catrin enjoyed that summer more than she would have thought possible. They had moved on as soon as the horse was sound, riding slowly and carefully now, sometimes through gentle well-tended farmland, sometimes through wilder hills, each evening stopping at a farm or manor house or a castle, sometimes moving on daily, sometimes staying a week or more in one place.

Realising that Dafydd often rode in a daze of inattention, rehearsing new rhymes and ideas in his head, Edmund took to leading the pack mule beside him, watching where the cob put her feet; sometimes though there were tracks where the going was easy and he would drop back beside Catrin and they would fall into stilted conversation. She was intrigued by his knowledge of healing, his way with animals. They discussed herbs and the making of salves and potions, something that was more often than not the job of the women in a household. At each outpost on the road guard dogs would race out barking and snarling but within a short time they would be clustering round him, making friends, tails wagging, begging for his attention, all hostility forgotten. It was a boon. Catrin remembered only too well previous trips with the hapless Roger Miller when she had cowered on her pony, terrified of the dogs until they had been called off.

‘How do you do it?’ she asked after yet another greeting by animals who seemed to think of him as an old friend.

He laughed. ‘Ignore them; don’t show you are afraid. Greet them when they come to you as you would a friend. Then ignore them again. They must learn you are not creeping into their house. You are here by right, to greet their masters, and you greet them as well.’ He fondled the ears of the huge wolfhound which was standing in front of him. Catrin smiled. She was not sure it was quite that easy, but she was prepared to try.

As they moved north up the March her dreams had moved with her. At night as she climbed into yet another strange bed under yet another unfamiliar roof she slipped almost gratefully into the darkness, aware that she would return in her dreams to Sleeper’s Castle. But once there her dreams were not always kind. Insistently, again and again she found she could hear the distant call of the drums, the blast of war trumpets and the scream of horses. The ground would shake beneath heavy hooves and in her sleep she would toss and turn and whimper in the dark, and she would wake and sit up, and gather her cloak around her shoulders and try to still the anxious thudding of her heart.

It was not meant to happen. On a well-organised journey it would not have done so, but one night in June they found themselves too far from their destination as night fell and Edmund insisted that, rather than travel on in the darkness, luminous as it was, they find a sheltered spot to stop. The high moorland was deserted; with light still persisting in the north-west as he tethered the three animals, Edmund removed their saddles and the packs and lit a fire in the shelter of a steep gulley.

Catrin glanced around nervously. ‘Are you sure we will be safe?’

‘As sure as I can be.’ Edmund watched as Dafydd wandered off a little way, trying to ease the stiffness in his bones. Even here, in the dark, they saw him reach for the tightly stoppered inkhorn and quill at his belt and scribble something on the scrap of parchment he pulled from his pouch. ‘Better this than have a horse trip or your father fall from his saddle with exhaustion. We’ll move on early in the morning. Come, sit here.’ He patted the ground near him. ‘I have oatcakes and cheese enough for us all and we have warm cloaks. We’ll be fine.’

Hesitantly Catrin lowered herself onto a flat rock near him and watched as he coaxed a fire into life. He produced the food and horn mugs from one of the saddlebags.

Catrin smiled. ‘Do you always travel prepared for every eventuality?’

He nodded. ‘On a journey like this it is sensible. See, I have put the saddles here in the shelter of the rocks. You and your father can lean against them to sleep and be reasonably comfortable. I have ale which we can mull if you wish.’ He had unpacked a leather flask.

The horses were already grazing the short sweet mountain grass; as it grew darker Catrin looked round for her father. ‘Where is he?’ she cried. He had been sitting some distance from them, squinting down at his notes in the firelight, but now as the moon rose slowly on the horizon she realised he had disappeared.

Edmund scrambled to his feet. ‘You stay here. Don’t move. I will go and find him.’

She peered after him into the darkness, relieved as the moon rose higher to see the soft light flood the broad valley below. There was no sign of anything moving, but she was still nervous. They shouldn’t have stopped. It would have been safer to continue to their next destination; the moonlight would have kept the trackways safe, safer than this, anyway, camped here in the mountains with her father missing. She stood up and stepped away from the fire, scanning the countryside. There were great black pools of darkness where the moonlight couldn’t reach, shadows, ravines, deep hiding places behind rocky outcrops. In the distance she heard the lonely whistle of peewits from the high moors and she shivered. There was no sign of Edmund, no sound at all apart from the birds. She glanced at the animals. If there were anyone out there, close at hand, they would hear. In Elfael they had heard wolves in the distance once. They were relaxed, happy, nibbling the grass. Then as she watched them all three stopped eating and raised their heads, ears pricked as they looked down towards the shoulder of the hill where the track disappeared into the deep shadow. Catrin took a step backwards and pulled her cloak more tightly round her shoulders, straining her eyes to see what it was the horses had heard, then she saw two figures appear in the distance. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Her father was not happy. ‘I needed to be alone,’ he grumbled as Edmund handed him a mug of ale. ‘I cannot think, always in company! Either we sit in busy halls or I am with you two and your endless chatter, chatter, chatter!’

Edmund and Catrin glanced at each other, both aware that they never chattered, that there was more often than not an uneasy silence between them as they traversed the lonely roads. Edmund winked at her and Catrin found herself responding with a smile. ‘I am sorry, Tad, but you should have told us, then we wouldn’t have worried. I thought you might have been lost in the dark.’

Dafydd threw himself down on the ground beside her and accepted a hunk of cheese and an oatcake from Edmund, who then went and sat at a distance away from them, near the horses, which had resumed grazing. The moon faded into darkness behind a wall of cloud and the only light came now from the embers of the fire. Edmund did not attempt to revive it.

‘Edmund and I will not say a single word now, so you can think in peace,’ Catrin said after a long pause. ‘Goodnight, Tad.’

Her father grunted. He hunched himself deeper into his cloak and sat with his back to her.

It was several hours later when Catrin awoke. The moon had moved across the sky and there was a line of light on the eastern horizon. The fire, she realised, was burning again and a hunched figure sat beside it. She was stiff and cold and the ground felt very hard as slowly she sat up and dragged herself to her feet. She went across and knelt near the warmth, holding out her hands.

‘Did I wake you?’ Edmund was huddled in a horse blanket, sitting cross-legged, his eyes on the flames.

‘I’m glad you did. I am frozen.’ They were both speaking quietly. The hunched figure of Dafydd lay with his back to them without moving.

‘It will soon be light,’ Edmund went on. ‘Then we can get back on the road.’

‘Are you sorry you agreed to come with us?’ Catrin asked after a short silence.

‘No.’ There was a short pause. ‘I am enjoying it.’

‘Really? Two mad poets with no sense of time or direction!’

He laughed softly. ‘Two talented people who need me to set them right. But it was no one’s fault we were delayed yesterday. The road was hard and steep and the horses are tired. If we rest for a while at our next stop we will be back on schedule. Your father wants to travel all the way up the March beyond Oswestry and Chirk.’ He glanced up at her. ‘Has he mentioned to you that he wants to go so far?’

Catrin nodded. ‘We always go that far. We usually visit the same people each year, so he doesn’t have to tell me. One of his chief patrons is the Lord of Glyndŵr, whose lands lie in that direction. His family have been friends to us and beg us to return each time we go and see them.’ She smiled. ‘This is a good way of life.’

‘In spite of the trouble between Wales and England?’ He hugged his knees, staring into the smouldering ashes.

‘There is always unrest somewhere. We manage to avoid it.’

She heard him sigh. He rested his forehead on his knees. ‘Have you heard different?’ she asked after a moment.

‘As you said, there is always something; one lord takes offence at another; the Welsh are treated badly by the English – even I can see that; the laws against them are prohibitive.’

She smiled. ‘You don’t consider yourself Welsh, Edmund?’

He shook his head. ‘I was born in England and I am loyal to King Henry.’

‘Joan told me you plan to join his army to fight the Scots.’

He didn’t reply.

‘If you were called to arms by your liege you would have no choice,’ she prompted.

She saw his shoulders tense, then relax. ‘I am a good archer,’ he said at last. ‘I’ve trained since I was a child. I believe I am good enough to join an elite band, make a name for myself; make money.’

‘My father’s family, my family, have always had Welsh allegiance,’ she said quietly. ‘Though living as we do in the March it pays to be reticent about one’s politics.’

‘That would always be wise. Especially now, as your father visits the houses of both Welsh and English. I see even the most ardent supporters of King Henry enjoy your father’s Welsh songs.’

‘Which he carefully sings in English for their ears.’

‘It is like walking a tightrope as the acrobats do.’ He sat back and took a deep breath. ‘Maybe we should think about packing up our camp and moving on. It is growing lighter now.’ He turned and faced her. ‘While we are on the road my allegiance is to you and your father, Catrin, in whichever house we find ourselves.’ He gave her a reassuring smile. Before she could react he had scrambled to his feet, heading towards the horses, leaving her staring after him.