House of Malice

FIVE

‘Who are you?’ The woman asked, still staring at Mandy from the study doorway. She was tall and upright, with white-streaked silver hair swept away from her forehead. Her face was long and chalky-white, her expression cold and severe. There was a peculiar glimmer in her eyes that Mandy found extremely disconcerting.

For a moment, her heart pounding, Mandy was speechless; then, recovering from the shock, she replied hotly, ‘I might ask you the same question. This is my house you’re in.’

The old woman’s stony face didn’t flicker. ‘Dinky Dora is missing. I don’t suppose you’ve seen her?’

Mandy now realized who the woman was: Mrs Bannister, her nearest neighbour. She was nothing like the charming little old eccentric lady she’d imagined and had been looking forward to meeting. ‘No, I’m afraid I haven’t seen Dinky Dora,’ Mandy said, making no effort to hide her annoyance. ‘I don’t even know who Dinky Dora is. I suppose she’s one of your cats?’

‘Dinky Dora is terrified of dogs.’

‘Listen, Mrs Bannister — that is your name, isn’t it? I’ve got work to do. I hope you find your cat.’

‘She’s black, you know. With a white tip on her tail.’

‘I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for her,’ Mandy said, trying to speak in a softer tone as she guided Mrs Bannister back out of the study doorway and towards the entrance hall. ‘Don’t worry about my dog — he wouldn’t hurt a fly. And next time you decide to pay me a visit, would you mind knocking before you come in? You really gave me a fright.’

There was an awkward silence during which the old woman stood and gazed around her with a dreamy, faraway look. ‘Seems strange,’ she murmured.

‘What seems strange?’ Mandy asked, wanting this interruption to be over and the woman out of her house.

‘This place, without Ellen in it. She loved Summer Cottage. She’d never have left it willingly.’

‘No?’

‘Oh, no. That’s what I told the police but they wouldn’t listen. Nobody would listen to me. That daughter of hers had no right to sell it. She’s a piece of w—’

‘Yes, well, she did sell it. It belongs to me now, okay? By the way, I’m Mandy. Mandy Freeman.’

The woman didn’t reply. She stood there staring archly at Mandy for a few seconds, then she turned on her heel towards the entrance hall.

Mandy wondered how well Ellen Grace and her neighbour had known each other. Had they been close friends? There were so many questions she wanted to ask, but the woman’s strangeness made her hold back. What a pity — and how typical that the first person she’d met who happened to know Ellen Grace personally turned out to be an oddball.

After the unexpected neighbourly visit, Mandy’s concentration was too broken to go on struggling to get anything written that day. The afternoon seemed to have passed by quickly; it was already getting dark outside as the days moved deeper into autumn. She mooched around aimlessly for a while, then thought about calling Todd, the guy she’d met in the village. She found his photographer’s business card in her purse and dialled his number, wondering if it was too forward to invite him over for a meal.

Todd seemed delighted to hear from her. ‘Mandy! I was wondering when we’d bump into each other again. No, I’m not doing anything tonight — I’d love to come over.’

‘Don’t expect too much, though,’ she warned him. ‘I don’t have much of a larder yet. It won’t be anything fancier than scrambled eggs on toast.’

‘Don’t you worry about that. I think I can rustle us up something. The village deli won’t be closing for another twenty minutes. If you like, I could pick up a few things and bring them over later.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Sure I’m sure. See you soon.’

Mandy spent the next hour unpacking the last of what little crockery and cutlery she had, and putting the kitchen in order. Soon afterwards, there was a rap at the door and she trotted to the entrance hall to find Todd standing there clutching a large bag of groceries and a bottle of champagne, which he thrust at her as he stepped inside. ‘House warming present,’ he said. ‘It’s great to see you again, Mandy.’

The same easy rapport still existed between them as when they’d first met. It was as if they’d known each other for years. She felt comfortable in his presence, and strongly attracted. She hoped he felt the same frisson she was feeling.

‘You shouldn’t have!’ she said, looking in amazement at the champagne.

‘We’re celebrating your arrival in Fairwood, aren’t we? Stick it in the freezer and it’ll be chilled in time for dinner.’ He rustled the grocery bag. A long packet of spaghetti protruded from the top. ‘You like Italian?’

‘Spaghetti with champagne?’

‘Are you kidding? Champagne’ll go with anything. Now lead me to your kitchen and let your chef for the night get to work. I even brought a few utensils in case you didn’t have them.’

‘How pathetic of me,’ she said as they headed into the kitchen. ‘First I invite you for a meal, then I let you do the cooking. I won’t even be able to help much, either. I’m not exactly Delia Smith.’

He emptied the groceries and cooking utensils out on the pine table and grinned at her. ‘You don’t have to do a thing. I’m delighted to cook, though on one condition only. You’ve got to give me something in return.’

She cocked her head to one side, raising one eyebrow and looking at him with mock suspicion. ‘Oh yeah? What’s that?’

‘The guided tour. I haven’t seen round the place yet.’

‘Deal,’ she said.

They began with the downstairs. ‘And this is where I’ll be doing my writing,’ she said as she showed him inside the study.

‘Wish I had a space like this to work in,’ he said, gazing around him and nodding. Noticing the broken picture lying on the desk, he pointed. ‘Whoops. Had an accident?’

‘That’s a little odd, actually,’ she replied, frowning at the picture. ‘It keeps dropping off the wall.’

‘Is this where it was hanging?’ he asked, going over to examine the bare hook between the windows. He waggled it. ‘No wonder. It’s loose. How about letting the handyman bodge it for you?’

‘Handyman, chef. Is there anything you can’t do?’

‘Truth? I’m not that much of a photographer.’

‘I don’t believe a word of it. Hey, if you could find a way of making the books stay on the shelves, too, that’d be great. They fell off earlier, which is a mystery to me.’

He shrugged. ‘Could be trucks.’

‘Trucks?’

‘Moore’s Haulage in Stanton. Their drivers often take a short cut down the country lanes around Fairwood. Some of those trucks are really massive, too big and heavy for these roads. There was an article in the Village Voice complaining about vibrations.’

‘Maybe,’ she said doubtfully.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said with a bright smile. ‘I’ll gladly take a look at the bookshelf for you sometime. Why don’t you show me around the rest of the place, and then we’ll eat?’

The living room was next. ‘I love it,’ Todd commented. ‘Whoever restored the place did a really sympathetic job. Look at all these period features, the beams, and all these nooks and crannies everywhere. And the fireplace. Wow. What an amazing piece of carving.’ She followed as he walked across the gleaming floorboards for a closer look at the massive piece of oak. Below the thick mantel jutted a fierce animal head, gargoyle-like, its features still sharply drawn even after centuries. The effect was strikingly Gothic.

‘I wondered what it represents,’ she said. ‘A lion, like the one on the front door?’

‘Or a griffin, maybe,’ he said, running his fingers over the smooth, glistening wood. ‘Some heraldic beast of Olde England. What a fabulous piece of historic workmanship to have in your home.’

‘It’s so rambling, you could lose yourself in it,’ Todd marvelled as she showed him more of the downstairs, proudly pointing out her favourite features.

She laughed. ‘I keep thinking there are still more rooms for me to discover.’

‘What’s along that passage?’ he asked when she’d led him upstairs.

‘My bedroom,’ she replied, hoping that didn’t sound like an invitation.

‘I love these old light fittings,’ he said, tapping one of the old Bakelite switches in the passage. He turned it on and off with a solid click. ‘They don’t make stuff like that any more. And the old-fashioned heavy oak doors with metal studs in them, and the ironware, like the ring handles and the big old keys in every lock. Very cool.’

‘So the overall verdict?’ she said, smiling broadly at him over her shoulder as they made their way back downstairs. ‘You approve?’

‘It’s marvellous. Apart from anything else, it’s a photographer’s dream.’

‘Or will be, when it’s properly furnished. That might have to wait until I get a bestseller or two.’

‘You won’t have to wait long, I’m sure.’ Wandering back in for another admiring look at the dining room, he went over to the piano.

‘Needs tuning,’ she said as he lifted the lid.

He casually tinkled a few notes with his right hand. ‘You play?’

She laughed. ‘To hear me, you’d never think I’d started at age seven. You sound like you can find your way around a piano yourself, though.’

‘It’s not my forte.’

‘Ouch. With puns like that you could go a long way in the publishing business.’ She smiled at him. ‘So you don’t rate yourself much as a photographer, and you can’t play the piano. Tell me, Todd Talby. There must be something you’re best at.’

‘In all the world?’

‘In all the world.’

‘I have a few regrets in life,’ he said, thoughtfully tinkling a few more notes on the piano. ‘One of them is that I never became a professional cook.’

‘Really?’

‘Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy my job. I get to travel around a lot, I’m my own boss, I meet interesting people. But cooking’s what makes me happy. I love to be around food. Thank Christ I don’t love eating it as much as I love preparing it, or I’d be as fat as a fool.’ He turned away from the piano. ‘And speaking of food, now that you’ve met your end of the bargain by showing me your amazing house, it’s time for me to fulfil mine. Let’s get this meal on the road.’

With just a pack of spaghetti, a tin of peeled Italian tomatoes, some black olives and a wedge of parmesan cheese, a little olive oil, butter, garlic, basil, sea salt and ground pepper and just a touch of cream for the sauce, Todd expertly whipped them up a fabulous feast. By the time the food was heaped steaming on their plates, the champagne was nicely chilled. They sat across from one another at the pine table with Buster watching over them.

‘Here’s to Summer Cottage,’ Todd said, raising his glass. ‘Or should I say, here’s to its very lucky and talented new owner.’

Mandy felt herself blush. ‘And thank you for being here to share my first real meal in the place.’

The food tasted as delicious as it looked and smelled. As they ate and drank and laughed, Mandy was thinking she’d really like to spend more time with Todd. A lot more time.

‘You talked about regrets,’ she said.

‘I have my fair share,’ he admitted.

‘Like what? Or is it too personal?’

‘Like not having met someone like you years ago,’ he said, looking very earnestly into her eyes.

She blushed again, and lowered her gaze. ‘I’m glad I came here,’ she said quietly. ‘And not just because of the house.’

There was a silence between them. Then, perhaps sensing that the conversation was getting a little intense, Todd changed the subject. ‘Met the neighbours yet?’

‘Just the one,’ she said, pulling a face.

Todd chuckled as she told him the story of Mrs Bannister’s visit that afternoon. ‘Have you seen Dinky Dora?’ she said, affecting a creepy voice. ‘That’s her cat,’ she explained. ‘By the sounds of things her place is crawling with them.’

‘I’ve heard she’s a bit of a character,’ Todd said. ‘Keeps herself to herself. I’ve never seen her, even though I’ve lived in Fairwood for four years now.’

‘If you ask me, she’s more than a little weird. Gave me the creeps. Mrs Danvers came to mind.’

‘Who the hell is Mrs Danvers?’ he said, laughing.

‘You know — from Rebecca. The nasty housekeeper?’

‘I remember. Saw the old Hitchcock movie based on the book.’

‘In Daphne du Maurier’s novel she had a skull face, high cheekbones, sunken eyes, a lot scarier than the film. That’s all I could think of when she suddenly appeared like that.’

‘You writers.’

‘I’m not kidding, Todd. She scared me shitless. Then started going on about Ellen not ever leaving this place willingly.’ Mandy shook her head. ‘I don’t know why, but it got to me. I wish she hadn’t come here.’

‘Ah, yes,’ he said. ‘The mystery of the vanishing author.’

‘Don’t joke about it.’

Todd could see she really was affected by what had happened. ‘I wouldn’t worry about her, Mandy,’ he said reassuringly. ‘You know, there are cat people and there are dog people. I find that cat people are often a bit, well, peculiar. Take my sister Emma — she’s got five of the things, and she’s a right one. Dog people are much more normal. Aren’t they, little fella?’ he added, leaning down to pat Buster on the head. ‘Especially Jack Russell owners.’

Buster growled. Todd drew his hand away quickly. ‘Whoa.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Mandy said, startled. ‘He’s never done that before.’

‘It’s okay. My fault.’

‘He’s been acting a bit strange since the move. Needs some time to settle in, I suppose.’

‘Maybe Mrs Danvers put a spell on him,’ Todd said.

‘Thanks a million. That’s what I really wanted to hear. How’d you feel if your nearest neighbour was a scary old witch or something?’

He reached across the table to gently touch her hand. ‘Come on, Mandy. Lighten up. She’s just winding you up, trying to freak you out. Don’t take what she said seriously, okay? Ellen Grace is gone. Do you really think her daughter would have sold Summer Cottage to you if she thought her mum was going to turn up on your doorstep? That’s just nuts.’ He paused, looked out the window and drew a breath. ‘My God!’

‘What is it? Todd?’ Mandy asked, alarmed.

‘I’ve think I’ve just seen Mrs Danvers flying off on her broomstick, with a moggy on her shoulder.’

‘Bastard.’

He grinned. ‘Couldn’t resist. Here, have some more champagne.’

By the time dinner was over, Mandy had forgotten all about her encounter with her neighbour. The two of them talked and laughed for a long time afterwards, and even Buster seemed in a happier mood. Finally, the time came for Todd to leave. It was an awkward parting. Both of them knew they were standing on the brink of a potentially serious relationship; neither of them wanted to appear either too forward or too noncommittal at this delicate stage. They managed a peck on the cheek, then with a wave Todd walked to his red Volvo estate and drove off into the night. She watched his taillights disappear down the road and shut the door, smiling to herself.

She was thinking about him as she got ready for bed, a warm glow spreading inside her from the champagne and the feeling that something deeper might develop between them. She wondered if he was having the same thoughts at home in his little terraced house in Fairwood. There was no question that they’d meet again very soon.

Once tucked up in bed, she tried to lose herself in a chapter from the Ellen Grace novel she was re-reading for the umpteenth time, but the champagne had made her drowsy. She laid the book down, switched off the bedside light and fell into a deep sleep.