Chapter 18 #2
‘I do understand that,’ Jenna said. ‘I understand the desire to be in control of your own destiny, but I don’t think it should be at the expense of your family, Moll.
What Rose did to Marris and Bridget was unforgivable, and what you are trying to do now is the same.
Give me the box and we can go and get a coffee, and forget about all this—’
She stopped as Molly withdrew her hand from her coat pocket. Jenna saw the glint of light on something in her palm, something small and silver. It was a cigarette lighter.
It was then that she understood Molly’s intentions, and her heart started to race.
‘You’re so sentimental, Jen,’ Molly said sadly.
‘And like I said, you’re a terrible liar.
Telling me that this box isn’t important, that there’s nothing in it apart from a few boring papers, when there’s desperation written all over you.
’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t much care what’s in there, to be honest, but I do care about winning.
Rose was always at the bottom of the pile in the last life.
She – I – had a chance for revenge then, but Queen Anna thwarted me.
It still pisses me off, to be honest. But now, in this life, I can destroy this one thing that you want to protect.
Marris hid this 500 years ago and you still care about it now.
You must do. You – boring, law-abiding Jenna – got yourself arrested trying to retrieve it.
It matters to you.’ Her eyes flashed. ‘So—’ she flicked her thumb and a flame sprang up from the lighter’s tip ‘—here we go. A small but satisfying payback for the last life.’
Jenna grabbed the box. She could smell the scent of mould, mingled with rotting oilcloth and wood, and with it an almost overpowering sickly-sweet smell.
Pear drops. It was acetone. She realised that the oilcloth had been soaked in it and her hands were covered in the slimy liquid that seemed to vanish immediately, leaving her skin cold and dry.
‘Molly, no,’ she said, but then there was a rush of sound as the air around the box ignited, and then the cloth and the old wood was burning so fiercely that it felt like a furnace, and there was nothing around her but a wall of flame.
* * *
Owen had arrived at Winterhill Hall at seven.
There was a bright pink sports car parked on the gravel outside but the building was silent and empty.
Steve Besant was doing a shift on the security desk.
When he saw Owen, he hastily pushed away the computer game he had been playing and stared fixedly at the CCTV camera feed.
‘When Dr Cox arrives for work,’ Owen said, ‘please could you detain him in the waiting room? Dr Sheldon—’ he gave Rachel the full weight of her formal title ‘—will be in shortly. She’ll explain what’s going on.
’ He left the security guard with his mouth gaping open and took the stairs two at a time, the motion-sensor lights coming on as he passed, banishing the shadows and bathing the spectacular stairway and plaster ceiling in bright, modern light.
He stopped at the top, where the final wooden baluster met the wall.
The entire newel post was, like the rest of the stairs, covered in the carvings that he had shown Jenna: fruit, flowers, musical instruments, the scorpion symbol that represented the Sharington family.
This single upright had one extra carving: a small key just beneath the flat top.
Owen took out his Swiss Army knife and with a muttered apology to the long-dead carpenter whose work he was desecrating, inserted the blade underneath the edge of the wooden key symbol.
There was a crack as the wood splintered, and then something fell into his outstretched hand – a small, intricately shaped iron key that had fitted perfectly into the mould.
Owen closed his fingers over it. It was the key to the box, but also the key to his memories of Will, and it was solid in his hand.
Straightening up, Owen walked over to the high arched windows and leaned against the stone ledge, breathing deeply.
Away across the lawn he could see a woman in a padded jacket and brightly coloured scarf amidst the ruins of the priory lady chapel.
She wore a bright blue bobble hat that matched one of the strands in the scarf and beneath it her long red-gold hair stirred in the wind.
Jenna.
In the same moment, Owen was gripped by a sense of danger so acute that it raised the hairs on the back of his neck. He turned and ran.
* * *
Jenna threw the box in the same way that she had thrown the ball for Titus, with a high, overarm movement that sent it arcing through the air.
A second later she heard a shout and Owen had grabbed her, pulling her down into the grass, rolling her over so that his body sheltered hers from the flames that seemed to be leaping all around them.
There was a terrible acrid stench of burning cloth in the air.
Owen’s heart was beating like a sledgehammer in Jenna’s ear as he held her cradled against his chest, but despite the discomfort she did not try to move.
He was the still, certain core of the world amidst all the confusion. She knew she was safe.
Eventually Owen’s breathing steadied and he eased his grip a little, and at that point awareness rushed in on Jenna, replacing the peace.
She could hear alarm bells ringing in the distance.
Someone was screaming. She realised it was Molly.
Her sister’s clothes were on fire. Bree was beating the flames out with her jacket and yelling, ‘Roll, Molly! Roll on the ground!’
Jenna sat bolt upright, looking around wildly.
‘It’s all right.’ Owen’s arms were still around her, his voice calming her.
‘Molly’s okay. Bree’s put the flames out.
’ Jenna felt him shift beside her. ‘The cavalry’s arriving.
’ Humour eased into his voice and he nodded to the crowd of people in high-vis jackets running towards them.
‘We have fire blankets, extinguishers…’ The alarm bells were getting closer.
‘And there’s an ambulance and the fire brigade coming. ’
Shock and reaction hit Jenna and she started to shake.
She put her head in her hands, ignoring the pain of her blistered palms. Owen sat beside her rubbing her back gently, talking softly to her whilst she wrestled herself back under control.
Her discarded gloves were on the ground beside them, crisped to a cinder.
Jenna could hear the vehicles getting closer, bumping over the grass.
She concentrated on not being sick and when the nausea faded, she took the bottle of water someone offered her and drank gratefully.
Her throat was rough as sandpaper from all the smoke.
The thoughts and emotions spun through her.
The box was gone, burned to a pile of smouldering ashes, and in the great scheme of things, it didn’t matter as much as she had thought it did.
At least Queen Anna’s secret would always be safe.
And there were more important things in life than 500-year-old promises.
Sisters, for example. Family. Owen. She rested her head against his shoulder for a moment.
‘They’ll need you to go to hospital to be checked over,’ Owen said. Molly, wearing a silver emergency blanket, was being helped towards the ambulance. He put out a hand to help her to her feet.
‘Thank you for coming to my rescue,’ Jenna said, suddenly feeling awkward. ‘I don’t know where either you or Bree came from, but I’m grateful you were here.’
Owen had not let go of her hand. A hint of a smile came into his eyes. ‘I can’t speak for Bree,’ he said, ‘but I was up at the hall searching for the key to the box that Queen Anna gave to Marris.’
Jenna’s heart gave a painful thump. She stared at him. Suddenly everything else faded to the back of her mind – the fire, the emergency services milling around.
‘You remember,’ she whispered.
‘I remember,’ Owen confirmed. There was a blaze of emotion in his eyes. ‘I love you. I always have done and I always will.’
Jenna felt a huge rush of elation and flung herself back into his arms. ‘I love you too…’ She was crying and smiling at the same time. ‘Oh, Owen…’
‘I can’t promise to live up to Will’s example.’ Owen released her and gave her a crooked smile. ‘He feels like the ultimate ex to compete against.’
Jenna gave a giggle. ‘You’re doing fine. If it comes to that, I haven’t forgotten that you’ve been in love with Marris for years…’
They kissed, oblivious to the audience of interested emergency responders, until Bree said dryly: ‘It looks as though you two need a room rather than an ambulance.’ Then, as they broke apart, she added: ‘Can you cope with another shock before you go?’ She nodded towards the grey tombstone of Father Nicholas’s grave.
The grass around the stone was shrivelled to nothing, burned and blackened.
Shards of charred oilcloth lay all around.
But in the centre of the stone sat a walnut box that shone with a dark purple sheen and on its lid were two white swans inlaid in pearl.
* * *
‘I’m sure Molly didn’t intend to kill either of us,’ Jenna said. ‘She just doesn’t have a very good understanding of fire accelerant. She was apologising all the way here in the ambulance.’
The hospital was full of dazzling bright light and it made her head ache.
Her hands were painfully blistered although she knew she had been incredibly fortunate in suffering only minor injuries.
Molly, in contrast, was being treated for second-degree burns; her hair had caught alight in the explosion when the acetone had evaporated.
It was only Bree’s quick-thinking in getting her to roll, and beating out the flames, that had saved her from much worse.
‘Well, she owes me for my Balenciaga coat,’ Bree grumbled. She was sitting next to Jenna in the waiting room at the burns clinic whilst Molly was being treated.
‘She owes you for more than that,’ Jenna said dryly.
‘Evidently blood is thicker than water,’ Bree said. ‘Who knew?’ But she looked a little bit pleased with herself. It might be premature, Jenna thought, but there was perhaps a sliver of a chance that they might all be able to repair their sisterly bond over time. She hoped so.
Owen was giving a witness statement to the police. Jenna had declined to press charges against her sister although the police were talking about a potential case of negligent arson. The damage, however, had been minimal and the box was now safely under lock and key at Winterhill Hall.
‘It was lucky you were there,’ Jenna said now. She frowned. ‘Actually, why were you there, Bree? Both you and Owen came out of nowhere.’
Bree looked slightly uncomfortable. ‘I felt bad about running out on you last night,’ she said after a moment, ‘so this morning I went straight over to the hall to tell Rachel what had happened. I wanted to catch her before work. I’d just arrived when Owen came charging out of the building, and I sensed something was wrong so I raced after him. ’
Jenna smiled at her. ‘Thanks. I always knew you had my back.’ She could see Owen coming towards them down the corridor and felt her heart lift simply at the sight of him.
‘It’s so weird about the box,’ Bree was saying. ‘How do you think it survived such a fierce fire?’
Jenna dragged her attention away from Owen and smiled. ‘Father Nicholas,’ she said. ‘We were standing right by his grave. His powers of protection are legendary, after all.’
‘Or possibly it was because walnut is a heat-resistant wood,’ Bree said. ‘Although the oilskin had been doused in acetone, it wouldn’t have penetrated the covering. There would have been a couple of seconds when the material was burning up but the box had yet to ignite.’
‘I prefer my explanation,’ Jenna said.
‘So do I,’ Bree agreed.