Chapter 14 #2
Tasha may not have been in the barn earlier, but she could be there now.
The weathered oak door to the big building was ajar.
She slipped inside, Hercules at her heels, and closed it behind her.
She’d crossed the yard by the light of the moon, her feet seemingly knowing just where to place themselves, her body changing direction instinctively to avoid a rut that might turn her ankle.
Now in the blackness of the barn she reached for the torch in her coat pocket and turned it on.
The scent of the hay was so much stronger at night, the shadows so much deeper, her heartbeat louder, pulsating in her ears.
She shone the beam of light up towards the loft.
‘Tashy,’ she called, ‘are you there, sweetheart? It’s getting late. You really need to come home now. We can sort all of this out.’
Silence.
Rita put one foot on the bottom rung of the ladder and began to climb. The rungs were worn smooth from years of use. Hercules let out a little whine and balanced on his hind legs.
‘You stay there,’ she instructed. ‘I’ll be back in a jiffy.’
Rita paused at the top to listen. She heard a small rustling sound.
‘Tasha, is that you?’
No reply. She really hoped that rustling wasn’t a mouse or worse, a rat.
She’d never liked vermin. They always made her edgy.
Besides, they could do so much damage, eat through concrete, let alone wood and hay.
They really ought to get another cat. George had said that every farm needed a cat, and he was right.
She glanced down to where Hercules was waiting anxiously.
If she could carry him up here, he’d soon flush it out.
And suddenly, it must have been the looking down or the fact she hadn’t eaten anything, but she felt dizzy.
She dug her fingers into the boards at the top of the ladder and was about to haul herself up into the roof space when something launched itself at her.
The worst of the worst, a rodent with wings.
She’d found one hanging upside down from the inside pocket of her school blazer once.
Her mother said that story about bats getting tangled in your hair was an old wives’ tale, but Rita could never be sure.
She ducked, feeling a swish of air as the bat’s wings narrowly missed her temple.
She lurched to one side. She felt her ankle give way.
It had never been right since she’d torn some ligaments falling off her bicycle as a girl.
That fall had ended abruptly in a ditch full of nettles.
The fall now down to the redbrick barn floor seemed to take forever and all she could think about was not landing on top of Hercules who was barking furiously.
And then George was there, at least she thought it was George, trying to catch her around the shoulders, cushioning her fall.
‘I’ve got you,’ he was saying. ‘Everything will be all right.’
He always used to say that when there had been an upset.
And it had been all right as long as he was there.
And he was here now, catching her as he always had done.
Except he hadn’t quite got hold of her properly and Hercules was barking.
She must not land on him, must not hurt him.
She twisted in the air and landed face down on the barn floor.
For a moment she felt nothing and then Hercules nuzzled the side of her face.
There was something wet on the hem of her dress and then a searing pain from her knee which travelled up her leg and through her whole body.
‘Oh, Hercules,’ she murmured, ‘that’s not good.’
And then everything went black.
Jules heard a car screech to a stop outside the cottage and before she’d even reached the window to pull back the curtains there was a hammering on the door.
‘Stay there,’ she instructed Tasha.
There was an old wooden truncheon hanging on the wall next to the front door. She unhooked it and held it behind her back.
‘Alastair,’ she said, relaxing a little once she saw who it was. ‘What’s the matter? If you’re worried about Tasha, she’s…’
‘It’s not Tasha, it’s Mum, Rita. She’s had a fall. Can you come?’
‘Of course. Give me a minute to get some shoes.’
‘Dad.’ Tasha was at her side.
‘Tasha thank goodness you’re here. We’ve been searching everywhere for you.’
‘What’s the matter with Granny?’
He rubbed his forehead as if trying to erase what had happened.
‘She’s fallen from the ladder in the barn and she’s unconscious. Mum’s called an ambulance, but we don’t know how long that will take and I don’t know what to do.’
Tasha started to shake and Jules put an arm around her.
‘I’m going to go and help. Do you want to stay here?’
She shook her head.
‘I want to come with you.’
‘Over here,’ Alastair said, almost running from the car across the yard towards a large redbrick building.
Jules stopped just outside and turned to put her hands on Tasha’s shoulders.
‘Just wait here for a moment, will you?’
‘But…’
‘You can come in shortly. I promise.’
Tasha nodded and pulled on the sweatshirt Jules had lent her before sinking on to the edge of the stone water trough.
Inside the barn Christabel was pacing up and down while Will sat on the floor next to Rita’s inert form and Hercules lay by her side, one paw in contact with her outstretched arm.
Jules felt for a pulse and knelt down, putting her face close to Rita’s.
‘Rita, can you hear me? It’s Jules.’
She turned to Alastair.
‘Can you get some blankets so we can try to keep her comfortable and a bowl of warm water and some cotton wool so that I can wipe some of the blood off her face?’
He nodded as if grateful for something to do.
‘And can you take Will with you?’ she added. ‘Will, can you make some tea, please? Plenty of sugar and if you’ve got any brandy that would be good.’
‘She can’t drink,’ Christabel snapped. ‘She’s unconscious.’
Jules looked up and met the other woman’s eyes.
‘It’s not for Rita. It’s for us. Five cups, Will, and some cool water with a straw for Granny, please, for when she comes around.’
‘What do you want me to do?’ Christabel asked.
‘Perhaps you could go to the end of the drive and wait for the ambulance,’ Jules suggested, ‘so they know where to come.’
‘I’ve explained on the phone.’
‘All the same,’ Jules said calmly. ‘Wouldn’t want them to miss the entrance and get lost, would we?’
Christabel had stopped pacing and was standing firmly rooted to the spot, her feet planted wide.
‘I can do that,’ Tasha said, appearing in the doorway.
‘This,’ Christabel hissed, pointing a finger at her daughter, ‘is all your fault. I wouldn’t trust you with feeding the chickens at the moment, let alone looking out for a large vehicle with a blue flashing light.’
Tears started to pour down Tasha’s cheeks. She looked as if she was about to turn and run again.
‘That,’ Jules retorted firmly, ‘is definitely not helpful.’
She extended her arm behind her.
‘Tasha, why don’t you come here and sit next to Granny? It will be nice for her to see your face when she comes around.’
Christabel stared at Jules for a moment before marching huffily past. As soon as she had gone Rita’s eyelids flickered.
‘Good idea,’ she murmured. ‘Last thing I want is her fussing over me.’
‘Welcome back,’ Jules said with a smile. ‘Look who’s here.’
She urged Tasha closer.
‘Best medicine in the world,’ Rita murmured before her face screwed up in pain and she tried to shift.
‘I need you to stay still,’ Jules said, placing a hand lightly on her shoulder. ‘There’s an ambulance on its way.’
Rita blinked in assent, her eyes glittering.
‘Tasha,’ she said through gritted teeth, ‘you’re all right?’
Tasha was crying as she crouched down.
‘I’m all right, Granny.’
‘And Hercules?’
‘He’s fine. He’s here, right next to you.’
The dog shifted closer and licked Rita’s wrist.
‘I’m so sorry, Granny, this is all my fault.’
Rita’s eyes widened and she wiggled her fingers for Tasha to take hold of.
‘Now don’t you talk such nonsense. I’ve got nobody to blame, but myself.’
Tasha looked up to the top of the ladder.
‘No thinking the worst,’ Rita whispered. ‘The Good Lord isn’t ready for me yet.’ She managed a smile through the pain. ‘I’ll be back in my kitchen before you know it. You see.’
Her eyes moved to Jules’s face for reassurance.
‘Absolutely,’ Jules said. ‘A quick check over in hospital and you’ll be right as rain in no time at all.’
Rita looked grateful, but they both knew she was lying.
Jules lay in bed and stared at the ceiling.
When she finally got back to the cottage after Rita was taken away in the ambulance she had been trembling with exhaustion and shock.
She made herself a hot water bottle because her period had arrived – thank goodness – and put on a pair of socks to try and warm up her feet.
Her grandmother always said it was important to keep your feet warm.
She should have picked up the phone and let them know where Tasha was.
If anyone was to blame, it was her. She tried to be very still, tried to close her eyes, but whenever she did her brain went into overdrive; flickering images of Rita lying on the barn floor, or her mother unexpectedly turning up, of those bewildering days after her father died and once again her whole being was transported back to her fourteen-year-old self.
It was Phoebe who had taken on the role of dutiful daughter.
A role she performed with much skill and not a small air of superiority.
‘You always were more Mum’s daughter than I ever was,’ Jules had said to her once.
‘I suppose it’s convenient for you to think that,’ Phoebe had shot back.
It had led to another row, not a shouting, letting-off-steam row, but a carefully controlled outrage of clipped sentences and modulated pitch steeped in bitterness.
Did all children have to get divided up, she wondered, one to the father, one to the mother?
She did see it often in the maternity unit and vowed that if she had children of her own it would not happen to her.
She wondered if that had been the case with Lance and Sarah, but somehow she didn’t think so.
Lance was too sensitive to allow that to happen.
Be careful, Jules, she said to herself. He’s kind and funny and considerate. You could easily end up liking him a bit too much. And remember that a lot of people are not what they seem to be.
She had come to the conclusion that the only person you could really get to know and trust was yourself and that was a lifetime mission.
And Carrie, of course. She would always be able to trust Carrie, but most other people…
better to be prepared for disappointment and then it wouldn’t hurt so much.
She reached for her glass of water just as a rush of air crossed the room, rustling the pages of the book she had left on the pillow next to her.
She froze for a moment, even her breath stalling as she seemed to feel a waft of air playing with her hair.
Surely, she was only half awake – imagining things?
She turned over, placed the book firmly closed on her bedside table, plumped her pillow and closed her eyes again just as voices filtered through the doorway.
There was someone here. She propped herself up on one elbow and strained to hear words, but it was quiet once more.
It must have been her own subconscious playing tricks, a lucid dream maybe.
She lay back down and there it was again, a whispering of words; kindness, helpfulness, generosity, love.
She sat up and pushed back the duvet before tiptoeing on to the landing but once more the house felt as if it was holding itself in.
There wasn’t anyone here from this world or any other.
If Carrie hadn’t confided in her that the house possessed a presence she wouldn’t have become so fanciful.
That, along with the stress of everything else that had happened, had caused her to become susceptible.
She’d never believed in spirits. If there was life after death, why had her father not made an appearance to her?
Why had he not helped her to come to terms with her grief?
Why had he not guided her in her relationships with men?
Why had he not protected her from Gavin?
No, there wasn’t any such thing as an afterlife.
Once you were gone, you were gone. And yet stupidly she half hoped that one day she might be proved wrong…