Chapter 14
THE PRESENT
‘So how is it going with Owen?’ Bree asked as they drove down the dead straight road across the Lambourn Downs towards Seven Barrows.
The tiny new moon was up in the sky; Jenna hoped it was a sign of good luck for their outing, but there was a leaden weight in her stomach as they approached Winterhill.
‘It’s going fine, thanks,’ she said briefly, in answer to her sister’s question. ‘Early days.’ Then seeing Bree’s look of derision at her lack of enthusiasm, ‘It’s good. Really good. He’s working tonight but we’re meeting up tomorrow for dinner.’
She didn’t want to talk about Owen. What was between them felt precious, new and private.
At the same time, she felt guilty that she and Bree were launching this expedition at the priory.
Even if it didn’t affect Owen directly it was his former family home and under the care of his sister, who was of course the director of the Swan Power Foundation.
She had debated with herself as to whether she should try to explain about the box to Owen now that she knew him better, but the idea was fraught with problems so in the end she had kept quiet – and felt horribly disloyal.
‘There are some good-looking men in that family,’ Bree said when Jenna made no further comment. ‘I used to hang out with Jack Swan, Owen’s cousin, when I was in my teens. Do you remember? All the girls at school were mad for him, because he was older and he was the strong, silent type.’
‘Really?’ Jenna was startled. ‘I didn’t know that. I haven’t met Jack yet. Owen says he’s very reserved.’
‘He is until you get to know him,’ Bree said.
She sighed, fidgeting with the strap of her bag.
It was so unlike her to be restless that Jenna knew she was working up to something and a moment later Bree burst out: ‘Do you remember I said the other day that there was someone I knew when I was younger who I thought might be special? But I was too young to make it work? Well, that was Jack.’
‘Wow. You kept that quiet.’ Jenna wasn’t sure her mind could cope with these additional revelations at this point.
Bree shrugged. ‘It was all a long time ago. I just thought you should know, as you’re dating Owen.
In case it comes up in any way…’ She fell silent.
Jenna realised with a rush of insight and sympathy that her sister was hoping there might be some way for her to reconnect with Jack.
She wanted a second chance. Clearly, he had been very important to her.
But Bree had regained her poise and withdrawn from the brief moment of vulnerability. Before Jenna could ask her anything else, she jumped in with another question of her own.
‘I assume you haven’t told Owen anything about tonight’s escapade,’ she said.
‘No,’ Jenna said shortly.
‘Or about your – our – past?’
‘No.’
‘And you feel bad about it,’ Bree said.
‘Yes.’ Jenna saw no need to elucidate. They both knew that she hated dishonesty and couldn’t lie comfortably or even by default. Even if they were successful tonight and retrieved all the artifacts that tied them to the past, she would never be able to pretend it hadn’t happened.
‘Look at it this way,’ Bree said after a moment. ‘Everyone has a past. You wouldn’t expect Owen to tell you everything about his, would you?’
Jenna gave a snort of laughter. ‘There’s baggage and then there’s 500-year-old baggage, Bree!’
‘It’s the ultimate skeleton in the closet,’ her sister said, and they both laughed for no better reason than that it relieved some of the tension.
‘It would be weird if it was only us, though,’ Bree said when they had calmed down. ‘I mean, when I first met Jack, I thought he must have been a part of my Tudor life as well as my current one. But he never gave any sign of remembering it.’
‘No.’ Jenna was thinking of the growing certainty she had that Owen and Will were the same man.
‘I agree it feels as though it would make more sense if there was a pattern,’ she said.
‘On the law of averages, we can’t be the only people to have experienced past lives.
But perhaps some people genuinely don’t remember. ’
‘That might explain why Molly claims not to recall anything that happened back then,’ Bree said, ‘although I still think she’s lying and she remembers it all perfectly. She just doesn’t want to take any responsibility for behaving like a bitch.’
Molly. It was an unwelcome reminder for Jenna of her other problem.
She didn’t bother to take issue over Bree’s description of their sister.
Arguing with Bree was often like trying to argue with a pigeon; you could tell her you were right and she was wrong but she’d just give you a blank-eyed stare.
And anyway, Molly certainly remembered the past, Jenna thought.
Why else would she flaunt the pearl bracelet when she knew Jenna would see it?
It was a dare, a challenge, like all those little pinpricks about how much more successful her business was than Jenna’s bookshop.
‘You might have been in charge back then, sister dear, but that’s all changed now…’
One problem at once, Jenna reminded herself, and realised that she was gritting her teeth.
There was quiet in the car broken only by the hush of the tyres on the road and the occasional flash of headlights when vehicles passed the other way.
In a couple of miles, she turned off the main road onto a narrow lane cut out of the chalk hillside.
At the top, where once a gibbet had stood, there was a lay-by and a gate leading into the woods that backed on to the priory grounds.
She cut the engine and the lights and felt her anxiety climb a notch as the darkness closed in.
‘Great,’ Bree said, climbing out of the car. ‘This is the perfect spot. No CCTV.’ She sounded completely normal. Nerves of steel, Jenna thought. Either that or no conscience.
They set off down the path into the wood, Jenna carrying the torch, a trowel and the bag into which they planned to put Queen Anna’s box.
She tried not to think too much about what they were doing, because it was making her feel sick.
We are not digging up the past, she told herself firmly. We are putting it to rest.
Bree carried a crowbar and some bolt cutters. ‘I work with a lot of metal in my sculptures,’ she had said earlier, when Jenna saw her stowing them in the boot. ‘We’ll need them to get on to the site since the gates will be locked.’
‘That will be criminal damage then,’ Jenna had muttered, ‘to add to the charge of grave-robbing.’
‘For God’s sake.’ Bree had sounded exasperated. ‘You make it sound as though we’re looting the pyramids or something! We’re doing this in a good cause, remember, not for personal gain.’
‘I’m not sure that would cut much ice in a court of law,’ Jenna had said.
They walked down through the wood in silence, the trees arching overhead like the roof of the lost priory, the tiny sickle moon caught in their branches.
The night smelled of damp earth and faintly of vanilla from the wildflowers that grew in such profusion in the winter woods.
There was a less attractive drift of manure from the racing stables up on the Downs.
The path was steep and Jenna focussed the torch on the ground and concentrated on her steps, trying to ignore the rustling and scratching around her.
Deep in the wood an owl hooted and another replied; there was the distant call of a deer – or was it a fox?
She could not remember. These days, the sounds of nature were constantly overlaid by traffic or humans. It was rare to be out in such quiet.
They reached the stream, hearing first the running of the water, then seeing a ribbon of darkness with the occasional flash of light where it tumbled over the rocks.
There was a crossing place where the old mill had been and the huge foundation stones were still embedded in the bank.
The River Lynch rose here, springing from the chalk stones beneath their feet.
It was shallower than it had been 500 years before.
Only a little further downstream was the place where Marris had met Will when she had been swimming that day in an early spring so like this one…
Jenna remembered that heated encounter, felt herself blush all over and almost fell into the stream.
Bree leapt agilely across and turned to offer her a hand as she teetered on the point of balance, hauling her none too gently up the opposite bank.
‘We could squeeze through that gap in the priory fence.’ Bree had taken the torch and was scanning around. ‘They aren’t exactly tight on security around here.’
‘They probably aren’t anticipating anyone wanting to break in,’ Jenna said.
‘Probably not.’ Bree passed the torch back to her. ‘Hold the barbed wire out of the way, would you? This hoodie is by Balenciaga.’
Jenna rolled her eyes. ‘There’s actually a gate into the meadow further along,’ she said, flashing the torch in that direction. ‘I don’t think it’s locked because it’s a public footpath.’
Bree tutted. ‘Well, why didn’t you say so?’