The Secret of Summerhayes. Merryn Allingham

She was surprisingly strong and her figure grew more rigid with Beth’s attempts to loosen her clasp on the window. And all the time she continued the soft moan, though it had grown noticeably harsher the minute she’d felt the touch of a hand. It was the most dreadful sound and Beth could feel her scalp spiking with fear.

      ‘Mrs Summer,’ she repeated. ‘You will get cold if you stay out of bed. Let me help you back.’

      This time Alice must have heard her because she twitched her head and breathed heavily, opening and shutting her mouth, as though she were suffocating. Struggling to get words out, but finding it impossible.

      Beth stayed holding her fast, until finally the elderly body collapsed against her and Alice found the words she’d been seeking. ‘They’re there,’ she said, and then kept on saying, ‘They’re there, they’re there. I can’t get to them. But I must.’

      Beth was seriously alarmed. Gilbert’s prophecy seemed to be coming true before her eyes. ‘Please come away from the window,’ she pleaded.

      ‘I can’t,’ Alice said simply. ‘I have to get to them. I have to get to Elizabeth.’

      The letters may have stopped, at least temporarily, but it was clear that Alice had not forgotten. The desire to be reunited with her daughter still burnt bright.

      ‘Elizabeth isn’t there,’ Beth said softly.

      ‘Yes, yes. She’s there,’ Alice insisted. ‘She’ll be with Joe, you’ll see, she’ll be with the others.’

      Somehow she had to get the old lady safely back into her bed. She would need to use cunning. ‘You can’t reach them through the window so why don’t we wait for them here? They’ve seen you now and they’ll come. You can wait for them in bed. You’ll be warmer there.’

      Alice turned and stared at her for what seemed like minutes. Then she let go of the glass and allowed herself to be led towards the bed. With difficulty Beth steered the tired figure onto the mattress and covered her gently with sheet and quilt, then strode back to the window and reeled down the blackout, pulling the curtains smartly closed.

      ‘Rest a while, and I’ll make you a hot drink,’ she told her. ‘You’ll feel much better for it.’ Alice lay back on the pillows and closed her eyes.

      It would have to be cocoa again, which meant three cups in one day and their ration was dwindling fast. But there was no help for it. She must lull the poor woman to sleep and hope that slumber would clear her mind, and that by morning she’d realise whatever she’d seen had been imaginary.

      The kettle had reached a brisk boil when Mr Ripley staggered through the still open front door. Beneath the naked electric light, his face was an unhealthy crimson. His few strands of hair were impossibly tangled and the old cardigan he wore was scattered with small pieces of broken twigs and odd leaves. He tottered towards her, leaving muddy footprints on the kitchen floor.

      She felt immense relief. ‘Thank goodness you’re back. But whatever’s happened?’

      His breath was coming in great heaves and when he was finally able to speak, his voice rattled in his chest. ‘She saw a ghost, Miss Merston, on the lawn. She didn’t call it a ghost, mind. She said he was real.’

      A distorted imagination, as she’d thought, but she still found herself asking, ‘Did Mrs Summer say who it was that she saw?’

      ‘Oh yes, it were Joe Lacey. She were certain of it.’

      ‘May Prendergast’s brother?’

      Ripley nodded. His breathing was gradually returning to normal. ‘He had his gardening apron on, and twine around his trousers and she said he was wearing his old felt hat. She reckons they’ve come back, the gardeners that is. All of ’em. And they’ve brought Elizabeth with them.’

      Somehow, that made things worse. ‘And you went to investigate?’

      Again Ripley nodded. ‘I had to. She were fair beside herself. I thought if I looked as though I were doing something, it would calm her down.’

      ‘And was there anyone there?’ She felt stupid even asking the question.

      ‘No. Not a thing. I searched what’s left of the lawn and the rest that’s under concrete, just in case. Then I went round every bush and every tree that she can see from her window.’

      That explained his dishevelled appearance. He’d had no torch and must have felt his way in total darkness. He was well over seventy and she dreaded to think what harm he might have come to.

      ‘You did your very best. You must sit down and rest.’

      She’d been tardy in offering him a chair but, still bewildered from the encounter with Alice, she wasn’t thinking clearly. The sight of the old lady in that long white nightgown trying to push her way through the window had been terrifying. She was realising now just how terrifying. They had managed to avoid a major calamity, but only just.

      She left Mr Ripley slumped in the kitchen chair and went back to Alice to check on her. At the door, she saw the old lady had drifted into a deep sleep. A mercy. And one cup of cocoa was going spare.

      ‘Here,’ she said to Ripley when she returned to the kitchen. ‘You should drink this.’

      ‘That’s kind of you, Miss Merston. I’m feeling a bit shook up, I have to say. I’m not as young as I was, not for midnight rambles.’

      ‘Indeed not, and you must never do that again. But I know you wanted to help her and I appreciate what you were trying to do.’ She reached out and clasped his hand.

      ‘I didn’t like to see her in such a taking. I went back to collect my book, you see – I’d left it on her bedside table – and then I found her, out of bed and trying to get through the window. Leastways, that’s how it looked. It gave me a real turn. I thought if I went down to the garden to investigate it would pacify her, but it didn’t.’

      Beth shook her head, remembering the scene all too vividly. ‘I doubt anything would have pacified her – except perhaps sleep. What do you think actually happened?’

      ‘I don’t rightly know. Perhaps she heard a noise and got out of bed to look. She might have caught sight of something blowing across the garden. The soldiers leave so much rubbish around, and there’s been a wind getting up these last few hours. Mebbe she thought it were a figure, a real person.’

      ‘And decided it must be the one person she wanted to see.’

      He shook his head sadly. ‘Miss Elizabeth must be dead. At least, I reckon so. She’s been gone thirty years and not a word. I’ve known that girl since she was so high, and if she were alive, I know she’d have written. But the mistress never would believe it. Master William afore he died tried to make her see sense. He’d waited for his sister for years, but in the end he decided she weren’t coming back. It made no difference. His ma kept saying that Elizabeth was alive and that she would come back – to her mother.’

      He paused and rubbed a hand across his chin. ‘It’s funny really. The old lady were always closest to her son, or so it seemed to all of us. But it’s her daughter she misses most.’

      Beth thought about it. ‘Maybe she can accept her son’s death more easily. She knows for certain that he’s gone. She buried him after all. But Elizabeth is different. She doesn’t know what happened, so her daughter remains tantalisingly alive for her.’

      Ripley rubbed his chin again. This was a little too whimsical for him. Beth brought the discussion back to earth again. ‘Why did she decide it was Joe Lacey she saw?’

      ‘I thought of that,’ he said proudly. ‘I reckon it were Mrs Prendergast coming here the other day. It reminded her of Joe and all the men who worked with him in the gardens.’

      ‘So if all these people from the past were coming back to see her, it must follow that Elizabeth would be among them?’

      ‘I