Chapter 32 Elise
Elise
When Lulu licked her awake at eight o’clock the next morning, Elise didn’t know where she was at first, she’d been in such a deep sleep.
“Are you trying to tell me you’re hungry?” she asked the dog, reaching out to pull the curtain open slightly.
What? There was paint on her hands. Pale-blue paint, mostly, with a touch of green, spread all the way up her fingers the way it always was after she’d been in the zone, painting for hours on end.
But she hadn’t been painting recently; certainly not after she got back from meeting Sam last night.
She’d remember if she had, surely? But then, she hadn’t remembered scribbling on the drawing of Harry either.
Suddenly anxious, Elise shoved her arms into her robe and hurried downstairs, Lulu running excitedly behind her. Only stopping to yank the front door open to let the dog out, Elise hurried along the corridor to the dining room.
At first, everything looked exactly as it should—the marsh painted in all its finery, Elise’s brushstrokes blending invisibly with those of Lilias.
But before she could become too relieved, she went further into the room and gasped out loud in horror, her hands flying to her face.
For right in the centre of the wall, painted directly on top of Lilias’s painting of the marsh where it was impossible to miss, somebody—presumably her, judging by the paint on her fingers—had painted an entirely new painting—a landscape of a view Elise didn’t recognise.
A lake in the early morning light with gentle clouds scudding across the sky.
Elise stood and stared at it, her paint-smeared fingers still covering her mouth.
Lilias’s work had survived for all these years, and she had ruined it.
She couldn’t remember doing it, but it had definitely been her.
If the paint on her hands and arms hadn’t already given it away, she recognised her own work.
Why would she do such a thing? And why couldn’t she remember doing it?
Had she been in some sort of trance? Painted it in her sleep?
It didn’t look as if the landscape had been painted in some kind of an unconscious frenzy; the brushstrokes were delicate and thoughtfully placed.
But what difference did it make how carefully the new picture had been painted?
Lilias’s mural would never be the same again.
There was a sound behind her. Lulu’s claws on the floorboards followed by the clump of male boots. Ted.
“Morning,” he said, coming into the room to stand next to Elise. “That looks a lot like Selkey Mere.”
Elise had never heard of it. “Where’s that?”
“On the way to Cley, about a mile away. Not that it looks like that at the moment; the water level’s really low with all this hot weather.”
Ted stepped forward to take a closer look, invading Elise’s space, filling her nostrils with the male odour of him, mixed with a strong, unidentifiable aftershave.
“I was thinking,” he said, eyes still turned to the painting, voice deliberately casual. “You and me ought to go for a drink sometime, what with you not knowing anybody round here. How about tonight?”
He turned to look at her before she had the chance to hide her expression. “Oh, no, thank you. That is, I’m busy tonight.”
Ted nodded, staring her in the face. “And the night after that, and the night after that, eh? Okey-dokey, I get the message.” And off he went, slamming the door behind him, leaving Elise alone with the turmoil of her thoughts.
Shit. What was she going to do? How could she even begin to explain this act of vandalism to Sylvia?
Feeling suddenly weak, Elise sat down on the chair she’d used while she was restoring the lower part of the mural and closed her eyes. It didn’t make a scrap of difference, though. The image she couldn’t remember painting seemed to be burnt into her retinas.
“You want me to go there, don’t you?” she said out loud, her heart suddenly racing. “You want me to go to Selkey Mere.”
Right after she’d finished speaking, the door swung open all by itself, like an invitation. She turned to look at it and shivered. Ted had slammed the door shut on his way out—the door couldn’t have opened because of a breeze.
“Why d’you want me to go there?” she asked Lilias out loud. “What’s there?”
But her only reply was the door swinging back and forth on its hinges.
Suddenly Elise heard a man out in the hallway—not Ted, come to try his luck again, but Sam. Thank God. Maybe he’d know what the holy hell was going on. Though why should he? But at least she’d be able to share her confusion and misery with him.
Sam’s voice came closer. She realised he was speaking to someone on the phone. Sylvia. Damn the woman for keeping such late hours. Wasn’t it midnight where she was?
“I’m almost outside the dining room now, Sylvia. It’s looking fantastic. You’d hardly know Elise has been working on it at all, which is the mark of great restoration work, right?”
Sam came into the room, his expression quickly becoming shocked as he took in the new addition to the mural.
“What’s that, Sylvia? Sorry, no, nothing’s wrong. Just somebody at the door come to deliver some materials. Elise? No, there’s no sign of her yet. I think she must be out walking her dog. Shall we give you a call later? You must be on your way to bed now. Okay, speak to you soon. Bye, Sylvia.”
“What the heck?” he said after he’d ended the call.
At exactly the same time, Elise said, “Thank you so much.”
“What happened?” he said, staring at the painting.
Tears filled her eyes. “I don’t know. When I came downstairs, I found this. I must have painted it, because look.” She held up her paint-covered hands to show him. “But I can’t remember doing it. I literally have no recollection at all. None whatsoever. I feel like I’m going crazy, Sam.”
He went closer to the picture, taking it in. “I’d suggest you painted it in your sleep, but it’s a beautiful painting. Certainly not eyes-closed work.”
“Ted says it’s a place called Selkey Mere.”
Sam nodded. “I think he could be right. It’s a lake just off the main road on the way to Cley.”
“How could I paint somewhere you and Ted can recognise when I didn’t know the place existed? And why would I, anyway? If it didn’t sound so crazy, I’d say Lilias made me do it. That she’s somehow directing my actions.”
Sam looked at her, considering her words. “D’you think she wants you to go there?”
“I do, yes. I’ve no idea why, but yes, I do think she wants me to go there.”
“Then let’s do it. Let’s go.”
“What, now?”
He shrugged. “Why not? You aren’t going to be able to concentrate on your work with this on your mind.”
“Shouldn’t I spend the day covering it up in time to show Sylvia my progress later?”
“We can show her the other walls. I’ll pile stuff in the way so she can’t see the new painting. Come on, we can take Lulu with us.” He indicated her pyjamas. “It doesn’t look as if she’s had a walk yet.”
“She hasn’t. I . . . I’ll go and get dressed. And, thanks, Sam.”
“No problem.”
It only took a few minutes to drive to Selkey Mere. Sam parked in a lay-by at the side of the road and consulted a map.
“I think there should be a footpath just up here. Yes, look, there’s a sign.”
Elise followed him, Lulu straining on her leash, eager to be free. Elise bent to let her off.
“There’s the mere, up ahead,” Sam said.
Elise looked and saw a stretch of water about a hundred metres away. “Lulu seems to be heading for it,” she said. “She doesn’t usually even like water. Lulu!”
Uncharacteristically, Lulu took no notice, if anything running even faster. In no time at all, she was nearly at the edge of the lake.
“Lulu!” Elise called again, running now, a gathering sense of panic beginning to rise up inside her.
Lulu’s return to her life had given her a real connection with Charlie again, and now it was impossible to imagine how she’d agreed with Robbie that it was a good idea to send the dog away.
The dog gave her hope and comfort. “I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to her, Sam,” she said, and he reached out to take her hand.
“She’ll stop when she reaches the water,” he reassured her. “She must be on the scent of something.”
Sure enough, the little dog did stop at the water’s edge. But then she stood there barking frantically, her gaze directed towards the centre of the mere. “What’s she seen?” Elise asked.
“Some ducks, I think.”
Sure enough, when they reached the edge of the lake, there were four ducks swimming at the far side of the lake, completely disinterested in Lulu and her noise, dabbling in the water, upending to reach the weed beneath the surface.
Elise reached down to stroke Lulu’s head. “Silly girl, you gave me a fright.”
Then she straightened to examine the scene she had so recently painted, taking it all in. The ducks. A seagull flying overhead. Soft clouds scudding across the sky, just like in her painting. Nothing threatening or ominous at all. And yet . . .
“What d’you feel?” Sam asked. “Anything?”
She shivered. “Not really, but the hairs on the back of my neck are standing up. There’s definitely something. An atmosphere.”
Sam took her hand. “Take your time,” he said. “There’s no pressure. Something will either come to you, or it won’t.”
“I think I’m going to speak to her. To Lilias. Ask her what she wants. If that doesn’t sound too crazy?”
“I’ve worked in Marsh House, remember?” he said wryly. “I may not be as sensitive as you, but even I’ve felt something there. A sort of . . . yearning. Unfinished business.”
Elise nodded. Unfinished business. Yes, that was exactly right.
She closed her eyes, focussing on her breathing.
In, out. Slowly, steadily. Blocking out Lulu’s occasional duck-barking and allowing the sounds of nature to fill her consciousness.
The gentlest of winds stirring the leaves in a nearby tree.
The seagull crying to its mate. The ducks and their dabbling.
When she felt ready, Elise opened her mouth to speak out loud, but before she could say anything, an image filled her mind.
A little dog—not Lulu, but a Jack Russell terrier.
Barking at the ducks the way Lulu had, but going further than Lulu had, entering the water to try to reach them.
A man’s voice—not Sam’s, a voice with a London accent—calling to the dog. “Compass! C’mon, boy.”
A voice from the here and now—Sam this time—sounded suddenly out, dragging Elise back.
“Lulu! Don’t go in there. Come on, here, girl.”
Opening her eyes, Elise saw Lulu up to her belly in the water, still barking at the ducks. A sudden wave of terror made her legs weak.
“No! Get her, Sam! Don’t let her go in. It’s not safe!”
Elise started to move towards the dog, but before she got very far she was sucked back in time to the man and the dog called Compass.
At the mere, but not now; a long time ago.
The man shouting in his London accent. “Compass! Come on, boy. Come out of there! I had a bath yesterday. I don’t need another one today. ”
Elise saw the dog, obviously out of its depth in the water, looking panicked now, swimming round and round in circles, most of the ducks long gone.
“Bloody hellfire,” the man cursed. “Have I really got to get wet?”
Then he was in the water, trying to reach the dog. “If Lilias didn’t love you so much, I’d bloody well leave you in there, you daft bugger. Come on, over here, so I can reach you.”
The final duck took flight across the marshland beyond the mere, the dog in hot pursuit.
“No, this way, boy!”
A step forward, closer to the dog. Another step.
Then nothing—the ground beneath his feet suddenly vanishing.
Swallowing water, choking. Arms and legs flailing about as he desperately tried to reach the surface.
Green, clinging waterweed everywhere, binding around his thrashing legs, keeping him pinned.
Oh, Jesus. Images flashed through his mind.
Lilias’s head on the pillow next to him when he’d woken that morning, her glorious hair spread out around her.
So peacefully asleep when the dog had crept into the bedroom.
Harry hadn’t wanted her to be disturbed, so he’d tiptoed out, found the dog’s lead, but stupidly hadn’t put it on. What an idiot.
Weakening now, he yanked one final time at his foot to try and free it. He couldn’t leave now, not like this. Not when he’d just discovered what life was really about. Lilias . . .
“Elise? Are you all right?”
When Elise came to, Sam was bent worriedly over her.
“Sam.”
“Oh, thank God. I went to get Lulu out of the water, and when I turned round, you were on the ground. Are you sure you’re okay?”
She pushed herself up onto her elbows. “Lulu?”
“She’s here. She’s safe,” Sam said, putting the dog close to her face.
As the dog began to lick her, Elise burst into relieved tears, pressing her cheek against the dog’s soft fur, cradling her wet body against her.
After a few moments, she sniffed. “Can you put her lead back on, Sam? The mere isn’t safe. There’s a kind of shelf; the water drops down suddenly.”
“You saw something?” Sam guessed, clipping the lead onto Lulu’s collar.
Elise nodded. “As clearly as if I was there. As if it was all happening to me.” Her voice cracked as she recalled the man’s gathering panic. The burning pressure in his lungs. His last sweet memories of Lilias sleeping.
“It was Harry. There was a dog—it went into the water, just like Lulu did. He . . . Harry went in to try and get it, but the bottom of the mere suddenly fell away. Sam, I think he drowned here. I don’t think he could swim, and .
. . and his legs got tangled in the weed.
I think his body might still be down there.
That’s what Lilias has been trying to tell us. ”
And suddenly she remembered the green scribble she’d found on her drawing of Harry—even then Lilias had been trying to tell her about the treacherous waterweed binding him, holding him fast beneath the water.
She began to sob at the horror of it, remembering Harry’s panic all over again, and Sam held her close, kissing the top of her head.
“If he is down there, we’ll find him. A friend of mine is a member of a diving club. I’ll give him a call. He’ll be happy to help. And if he finds Harry’s body, we’ll report it to the police.”