Page 24 of A Good Heart is Hard to Find
5
Mistress of All She Surveys
Another chilling little potboiler from mistress of the macabre Cass Leigh, Nocturnally Yourswill delight only her fans.
Daily Telegraph
At some time during the night, whilst I was pleasantly engaged in causing poor Keturah to pass out with terror as something unspeakable grabs her in the graveyard, only to find when she wakes up that—
No. I’ll stop there becauseI’m not going to tell you what Keturah sees when she wakes up: buy the book and boost my sales.
In any case I am digressing from the point, which is that at some time between Jason’s final assault on the doorbell and the first squawk of Birdsong, Jack Craig pushed a key through my letterbox.
Not just any key:thekey. Large, sturdy, old-fashioned, and the sort of thing that would open Drac’scastle or the House on Haunted Hill. Which is pretty close, actually, since it was the key to Kedge Hall that I’d spent so much time trying to borrow.
It came wrapped in a piece of paper that said, thrillingly: ‘Tonight!’, and included a map of the drive, and the littlepath under the arch at the side of the house that would take me to the kitchen door, all very Enid Blyton. All it needed wasTimmy the dog. Or maybe Jason would do?
The thick plottens.
While delighted that Jack had at last capitulated itwasodd of him to deliver the key in such a mysterious manner, when he might slip it into my hand down at the pub most nights.
And why ‘tonight’? Though of course I would go, because it would be just like him to demand the key back the next day, and it had been such amazingly hardwork to get the thing at all.
Jack’s appearance was clearly against him, for you wouldn’t think from looking at him that he had any principles. Indeed, I often wondered how he got the job of caretaker at all, except, I suppose, that Craigs have always occupied the lodge, and he was simply the Last Man Standing.
It’s amazing how everything happens at once, isn’t it? But having finally worn himdown into agreeing, I’d have to seize the moment.
Miss Kedge was a very reclusive old lady who never even bothered answering my letters pleading for a quick look round, and I had no reason to think the new owner, if he ever appeared, would be any different. Apart from the haunted bit, Kedge Hall was one of the nicest small manor houses in the country, so you’d think the heir would hotfoot itback if only to put the house on the market, wouldn’t you?
Rumour had it that he was – or had been – some kind of foreign correspondent, and was currently abroad somewhere; but other than that no one seemed to know anything much about him, or had ever seen him here apart from Jack Craig on that one brief visit months ago.
Dawn was breaking and Birdie was squawking, but instead of going to bedfor a couple of hours (with earplugs) like I usually did, I listened to Jane’s message again, writingdown Max’s phone number. And this time I actually registered the end of her message, the scary bit, where she’d added: ‘Clear out the spare bedroom, I might just want to come and stay with you soon.’
Stay with me? Withme? Did she want to get excommunicated from the parental nest too?
Or wasit just a Jane thing to put me on edge?
After that I dithered about with Max’s number in one hand and the strangely reassuring weight of the Hall key in the other, while I tried to summon up the courage to call him.
When I finally did, it rang for such an awfully long time before it was picked up that I’d started to think Jane had got the wrong number.
Even then, there was silence from theother end, except for the faint seashell whisper of someone breathing.
‘Max, is that you? Are you there? It’s me, Cass.’
‘Cassy?’ He sounded more stunned than pleased. ‘How on earth did you get this number? And do you know what time it is over here?’
‘No, of course I don’t. I don’t know what time it is here, either – what does it matter? Max, Jane told me about Rosemary, and she got your numberfor me.’
‘Jane knows already? My God! Then I suppose everyone knows?’
‘Everyone except me! Why didn’t you phone, Max? It was so horrible finding out from Jane, not you. And – I’m really sorry about Rosemary,’ I added, rather awkwardly. ‘I mean, I know you were still fond of her, and—’
‘Yes, it’s been quite a shock,’ he interrupted brusquely. ‘I haven’t been thinking straight. Sorry, Cassy,I did mean to call, but it’s all been so difficult. I knew you’d understand, darling.’
Yeah, just take me for granted as usual, faithful old Cass, Ithought disloyally, and then felt immediately guilty. Guilt on guilt: I had more layers of the stuff than an onion has skins. (And Iwishedhe wouldn’t call me Cassy, it’ssoJane Austen!)
‘I’ll come over as soon as I can get a plane seat,’ I assuredhim. ‘You shouldn’t have to be alone at a time like this.’
