Under the Cobblestones Page 4

  “Sorry to hear that,” Zack replied, keen to sound as if he had heard nothing of the local gossip.

  Kyle relaxed in the armchair and looked at his guests, then he focussed on Zack.

  “I'm more than happy to tell you all about my family history - and some of it is very strange, too – but you must be aware that before you write anything at all, I'll be asking you to meet with my solicitor to sign an agreement that no scandalous or dark rumours from a murky past get written in.”

  “Of course,” Zack agreed, “You want to protect your family and their good name, I wouldn't want to do anything to scandalise it.”

  And the two men looked at each other, and as she watched, Sarah felt sure she was seeing not just a meeting happening, but the start of a friendship. Their mutual understanding of his willingness to protect the family history had impressed Kyle, and now the two of them seemed at ease as they began to discuss the book.

  And still Sarah said nothing as Kyle and Zack talked about the building of the first manor, and then as he skipped to the part where he mentioned an unexplained fire burned it to the ground back in the Twenties, he added quietly, “Of course, given the curse on this family, it's not surprising the rumours spread so quickly...”

  “What rumours?” said Sarah, “What's this family curse about?”

  She realised too late she should have kept quiet as she caught the look in Zack's eyes, a silent pleading to please stop, but it was too late, she had pushed on a point she had promised to avoid and now as she sat there and looked to Kyle, she silently hoped she hadn't wrecked Zack's chances of getting to write that book...

  Chapter 3

  “What family curse?” Sarah said again, and then she added, “Sorry, I'm curious about that sort of thing... I probably shouldn't have mentioned it...”

  But to Zack's sheer relief, Kyle was not offended at all.

  “The curse?” he repeated, “Well, that goes back to the year 1912. Apparently the local cunning man – or warlock, whatever you choose to call him, the man who lived in your cottage,” he added as he glanced to Zack, “Thornton Ravencroft, was apparently having a love affair with the daughter of the then Lord Brackenby, who reacted with anger and....” he paused, frowning as he considered all the stories he had heard, “I don't know what happened but Thornton supposedly left the village that year and never returned. There were lots of rumours passed down through the family, some say Frederick beat him black and blue and ran him out of town, other versions are far worse and suggest he had him tortured and killed.”

  “Do you believe that?” Zack asked him, and now he was so intrigued by the tale he knew later Sarah would tease him about how she just knew he would get involved with the mystery, but he didn't care about that, now he just wanted answers.

  “If he had,”said Kyle,“ I'd be very ashamed to think there's blood on the hands of my ancestors. I'm not like that, you see. I detest violence. I even joined the sabs last time there was a hunt near my land because I couldn't bear to think of the fox getting torn apart. There may be blood on the hands of my ancestors, but not on mine. And I would prefer to think that back in 1912, the lord of the manor simply asked Thornton Ravencroft to leave. Maybe he even paid him to start a new life somewhere else. But one thing is for certain, Thornton was not happy about being separated from Lillith Brackenby. It's said that he placed a curse on the family that would bring suffering and death to every lord of Brackenby Manor because he lost her. “

  “And you think that could be why the fire happened?” Sarah wondered.

  He shook his head.

  “Who knows? Most likely it was old wiring or maybe a servant had an accident in the kitchen, maybe someone knocked over a candle... we'll never know.”

  Then he paused to gather his thoughts, and when he looked again to Zack, pain reflected in his eyes.

  “There is a family curse,” he said quietly, “I've fallen victim to it myself. But thanks to these modern times and medical advances it now has a rational explanation. There's a rare form of blood cancer that runs in my family. Strangely, it has only affected every son to inherit the title of lord since Thornton laid down the curse - and it hit me a few years back but I was lucky. I had treatment and a bone marrow transplant saved my life. It doesn't mean it won't come back – I live in fear that one day it will and if it does, there's nothing more that can be done for me. The treatment also destroyed my chances of ever having a family of my own so biologically, I'm the last of my line now. Maybe that's a good thing. No more Brackenbys affected by the curse. But as I said, the timing of it does link to Thornton's curse on the family, although the medical explanation is quite sound and has no basis in witchcraft.”

  “Of course not, its just a terrible coincidence,” Zack agreed, and he glanced to Sarah, who stayed silent, knowing this was not the time to bring up more on her theories about the curse or the disappearance of Thornton Ravencroft.

  Then the door opened and a tall, slender woman with fair hair that fell to her shoulders walked into the room. She was wearing a tight fitting white summer dress and high, strappy shoes and her tan was deep. She smiled as she looked to Kyle, and at once the sorrow that had shaded his gaze was gone.

  “Sally,” he said warmly, “I'd like you to meet our guests – Zack Sterling is new to the village, he's recently moved into Ravencroft Cottage and he wants to write a book about my family – and this is Sarah Tate, a good friend of his.”

  “Nice to meet you,” she said politely, and then she looked to Zack.

  “You want to write a book about the Brackenbys? That should be interesting. Kyle tells me all sorts about the past and his family! Did you know the first Lord Brackenby had a witch burned at the stake?”

  “Was that witch a Ravencroft?” Sally asked, unable to keep silent any longer.

  “No,” Kyle replied, “This was centuries back and she was probably some poor old woman who was wrongly persecuted by her neighbours,” and he glanced to his wife, “You know I hate that side of the history.”

  “Sorry,” she replied, and then she went over to the window and said no more as Kyle got up and shook hands with his guests, and promise to be in touch soon. Then he left the room with them to see them to the door.

  They chatted out there on the porch for a quite a while, and Sally hung back until her husband had said goodbye and closed the door, and then as he turned to walk back down the hallway, she walked up to meet him, and there was a look of concern in her eyes.

  “You look worried, I saw it as soon as I came into the room.”

  He gave a sigh.

  “You know why. Blood tests are coming up soon, then the long and torturous wait to find out if I still have a life to look forward to. I was talking to Zack about the story of Thornton and the family curse. Sometimes I can't help but wonder if that curse was real. I mean, it was real enough for me when I fell ill.”

  She shook her head, and as she looked into his eyes, the love he saw there was all he needed to keep him strong.

  “It was just a story,” she reminded him, “Stop thinking about it, and don't worry about the tests. You'll be fine.”

  Kyle blinked away tears.

  “And if I'm not?”

  “I'll still be here,” she vowed, and then she drew him close and he held on to her, and the two of them embraced tightly in the middle of the vast hallway of Brackenby mansion.

  As they drove away from the house and turned back on to the long and leafy lane, Sarah noticed Zack looked tense.

  “I'm sorry about what I said.”

  He glanced at her, and one look in his eyes told her he bore no grudge.

  “Don't worry,” he replied, and he looked back to the road, “I know you couldn't help yourself when he started talking about the family curse. But please, try and remember he's not talking about witchcraft, he's not talking about some curse made by an angry warlock – he's referring to a very real and terrible illness that he was lucky to survive. I don't think either of us should mention th
at subject to him ever again.”

  “You're right,” she agreed, and then she fell silent.

  They reached the end of the lane and he turned left, then took the car down another road where on one side trees stood with heavy boughs to shield from the sun whilst on the other, low hedgerow ran along to form a barrier where beyond, fields of wheat looked gold in the sunlight.

  Zack's mind was on the view now, and he started to relax as he reminded himself that the meeting with Kyle had gone well, and there was no reason to think any of Sarah's questions had caused offence – Kyle wasn't like that, he could tell, he was an easy going sort of guy, and he was looking forward to meeting with him again, because before they had parted, he had promised to go over some old family documents to see what he could uncover about the family's financial records from the days when his great great grandfather had owned half the buildings in the village.

  Then the sky blew over dark and as the clouds rushed in strangely fast he looked to Sarah, but she was sitting in the passenger seat with her head turned to the open window...

  How could she be calmly admiring the view?

  Thunder clouds had just rushed across the sky at unbelievable speed and now it was dark and as a flicker of lightning forked the sky and a rumble of thunder sounded in the distance, rain began to hit the windscreen in huge, heavy splashes. He turned on the wipers and clutched at the wheel tightly as he felt a shiver run down his spine. He looked to Sarah again, and she was still there calm as ever, looking out of the window just as she had while the sun had been shining.

  “Sarah!” he said urgently, and she kept her face turned to the open window, still calm as if the sun was still out and she had not noticed the heavy storm clouds covering the skies.

  “Sarah!” he said again, and still she did not look at him.

  And there were men crossing the now darkened field.

  He slowed the car, looking through the driving rain, and it was then he realised there was something odd about the gathering:

  All of these men wore clothing that looked strangely dated, from the cut of the cloth to the style of it, like men from another time long ago... and they were there, in the not too far away distance, and they were dragging a man whose clothing was torn, and as lightning streaked the sky again, he saw blood on the injured man's face. It was then he realised the injured man, who was left to fall on his back, had a face he recognised...he was looking at his own face.

  Zack gave a gasp and slammed on the brakes, and the car screeched to a sharp halt.

  “What did you do that for?” Sarah demanded angrily as she turned to him, her eyes wide with alarm, “Sudden emergency stop in the middle of an empty road? Why?”

  And still the wipers were moving back and forth over the dry windscreen as its clean glass surface reflected the sunlight on this day filled with a flawless blue sky...He looked around at the summer's day, feeling a sense of dread that chilled his blood. There was not a storm cloud in sight, nor a hint of rain...

  His heart was beating fast as he raised a shaking hand and wiped sweat from his brow.

  “Sorry...something ran out in front of the car...must have been a fox. I missed it, thankfully.”

  “You're shaking, are you okay to drive?” she asked.

  His mind was still on what he had seen – a man with his face, but wearing an Edwardian suit, being dragged bloody and beaten across a field. A field that backed on to what would have then been the location of the old Brackenby Manor...

  “Yes I'm fine,” he said, and felt guilty for lying when he knew the concern he saw in her eyes was deep and genuine. Then he switched off the wipers, took a moment to take a breath, and then he drove away from the side of the road, and headed down towards the bridge, taking the route that led back to the cottage.

  For the rest of the day, Zack made sure he kept out of Sarah's way, because he wasn't sure what to make of the strange vision he had seen any more than he understood the voices he had heard in the garden – and it seemed bad enough that she knew about the voices, even though she believed in ghosts. To tell her about what he had seen in the field was unthinkable – how could he have seen himself back there, dressed in clothing that belonged a hundred years before?

  Even Sarah would find that hard to believe, and she had been so tolerant of his past and all he had told her about the voices. He didn't want to push his luck and drive her away. Worse than that, he didn't want to be alone in the cottage any more, and that was something he had never thought would bother him as much as it did now – before, he had disliked being alone. Now the thought of it terrified him, because the whispers and then the vision were entirely for him, and him alone – and to be alone and face that was too much to bear...

  By nightfall, Zack had gone to bed early and left Sarah to watch TV alone. He stripped down to his underwear and got into bed and snapped off the light, then snapped it back on again as he decided he didn't want to sleep in the dark after what had happened out on the road.

  He closed his eyes and then the thought hit him that only kids slept with lights on and he had been a grown man far too many years to justify this crazy behaviour.

  He reached out and snapped the light off.

  The room was plunged into darkness save for a glimmer of moonlight that fell through the open window, and that silver light sent shadows up the corners of the room.

  Only shadows.

  Zack closed his eyes and gave a sigh, and then as he tried to relax and thoughts of the field came back to him, the field shifted too close and a sudden thought hit him, a crazy thought that he couldn't shake:

  If he opened his eyes, there would be something or someone standing at his bedside...

  Now that was too crazy. He had to prove himself wrong and snap out of this thinking, he knew it even though he was afraid to open his eyes.

  “You're imagining it,” he murmured, and he opened his eyes and turned his head:

  Nothing. There was nothing at his bedside, and he thought about turning on the lamp again, but decided better of it. This was something he had to stop now, and the only way to stop it would be to face it – he was sleeping in the dark whether he liked it or not. But as he closed his eyes again that thought was still there. He gave a sigh and turned his head and opened his eyes again.

  The breath was knocked from his body as he looked up in shock to see a man standing at his bedside, cast in shadow as the candle on the table next to his bed fell dark and the smoke that trailed from the wick looked white by the moonlight. Candle? Since when had he put a candle next to his bed, he had a lamp with a bulb that plugged into the wall, he didn't have candles up here...

  The shadowy man leant over him, seizing him and as he struggled, a solid blow to the left side of his rib cage knocked the air from his lungs.

  “You die tonight, cunning man,” said his attacker, and as they struggled, he was dragged from his bed and hit the floor with a thump.

  And the light snapped on, it was the electric bulb shaded by a pale lamp, the very modern light that was right above him as he lay there looking upwards as he clutched at his side and tried to make sense of what had happened...

  “Bad dream,” he managed to say as he welcomed Sarah's help and got back to his feet. The thought dawned on him that she was standing there looking at him, and he was in just his boxer shorts, but now was not a time to apologise for that, because his side was hurting and as he rubbed at it, she pushed his hand away and drew in a shocked breath at the sight of the livid bruising.

  “Did you do that today when you braked sharply? Did the seatbelt do that?” she said.

  He looked down at the bruise and felt tiny prickles of ice pass over his flesh as he recalled the man at his bedside who had punched him hard as he tried to fight back. Had that been real? Could ghosts do that to living people?

  “Zack?” she said, and he looked at her.

  “Yes... it was the seatbelt,” he replied quickly.

  “I thought you said you didn't get bad drea
ms.”

  “I don't usually. I can't even remember what t was about,” he replied, “And like a total idiot I fell out of bed and I'm sure that will do my ribs the world of good!”

  He forced a smile, but she couldn't fail to notice he was pale and shaken up.

  “Go back to bed, I'll stay with you.”

  “Why?”

  “Get in bed and go back to sleep. I'll stay with you for a while, I'll just sit here and make sure you don't have another nightmare.”

  He looked into her eyes.

  “Why would you want to spend the night doing that for me?”

  “Because you're my friend?” she suggested, “And I didn't say all night – I meant just for a while, to make sure you're okay.”

  He felt too shaken up to refuse.

  Zack got back into bed, laid back and paused to rub at his aching rib cage, and then he looked to Sarah, who had sat down on the edge of his bed.

  “Thanks for this,” he said, “I meant what I said, I'm not one to have bad dreams, and I'm not usually nervous in the dark -”

  “Go to sleep,” she said kindly, and then she walked over to the switch on the wall and turned out the light, but now as he heard her walk back to his bedside and in the glow of the moon saw her sit beside him, all his fear began to melt away once more.

  “I'll stay till you fall asleep,” she told him.

  He reached out and gave her hand a brief squeeze.

  “Thanks,” he said quietly, and his hand was still resting on hers ten minutes later as he finally slipped into a deep and much needed sleep, comforted by the fact that he was no longer alone.

  When he woke in the morning, the sunlight was streaming in through an open window and birdsong was drifting in along with the heady scents of the garden below. And he was alone, because Sarah had left him to sleep, but as he thought of her he felt sure she would never know how grateful he was for her company on a night when something he could come nowhere near to explaining had scared the hell out of him.