Grace crept downstairs, hoping she wouldn’t wake James. There was no way this could wait till morning: she needed to look in the cellar right now.
Luckily James had left the TV on, so the flickering light filtered through the living-room door and flashed in staccato bursts on the passage walls. But as she got further towards the back of the cottage, it became gloomier, the light dwindling to nothing. She ran her hands over the cellar door until she found the handle and pulled it open, hearing it creak. Then she made her careful way down the steps, engulfed in blackness, knowing that once she reached the bottom she could switch the light on.
She was jittery, jumping at every slight noise or rustle, feeling her way along the wall, nearly retreating in panic as something soft brushed against her hand, until she realised it was her dressing-gown cord. ‘Stop working yourself up,’ she scolded herself in a whisper.
When she reached the bottom, she felt along the wall, and flicked the light switch.
The change from total darkness to the stark white light of a bare bulb was utterly disorientating. Grace closed her eyes for a moment, making a conscious effort to slow her breathing, and then opened them again, squinting.
Everything was as she remembered, including the bitter cold. She headed straight for the box of Adam’s personal effects – the one she knew he had brought with him from London. She began taking things out, quickly and carefully, piling them on a nearby shelf.
She didn’t have to dig down far until she found what she was looking for.
His passport. She opened the small purple booklet, to double-check, and there was his picture, the one that Grace had always laughingly told him looked like a police mug shot.
She stared at Adam’s handsome face. A rush of tenderness weakened her legs, and she held on to a shelf to stop them buckling. This was evidence, surely, that he hadn’t intended to run away? Or at least it made it less likely. But if that were so, then other possibilities, some unbearable, edged closer to being true.
Her mind swirling, she whirled around.
James was standing silently behind her.
She squealed with fright. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ she shrieked.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ he shouted back. Barefoot and bleary-eyed, he was brandishing a large piece of wood. ‘For Christ’s sake, Grace, you scared the life out of me. I woke up to a bloody door creaking, and then heard all this scraping and rustling. After what Annabel’s been telling us, I was terrified I was about to confront the headless horseman rummaging about down here.’ He laughed, but when Grace didn’t join in he immediately sobered up. ‘What’s wrong?’
She shook the passport at him. ‘They asked me to find this last year, when they were suggesting that Adam had done a runner – and I couldn’t. But I didn’t know the bloody cellar existed then, did I? It suddenly dawned on me that I never checked the boxes he put here. Perhaps the police will take his absence more seriously now – though I somehow doubt it.’ She dropped her arm despondently.
‘Grace,’ James began to rub his bare arms as he stood there in T-shirt and boxer shorts, ‘come upstairs and we’ll talk about this. It’s freezing down here.’
He held out a hand. She went across and took it, and he began to lead her towards the stairs. ‘Hang on,’ she said, ‘we have to turn the light off.’
He waited as she flicked the switch, then they edged slowly back up in the darkness. Once in the corridor, Grace dropped his hand and closed the door gently, trying to stop it from creaking.
James followed her down the hallway, but when she began to climb the stairs, heading back to bed, he said, ‘Grace, wait a minute.’
She tried to look at him, though she could barely make out his face.
‘Come and sit with me for a moment.’
She went into the lounge with him. He pulled her onto the sofa and unzipped his sleeping bag, covering them both with it.
‘Lean on me for a while. Let yourself relax.’
Grace did as he bid, and felt her eyes grow heavy. The next thing she knew she had woken up with James asleep next to her, his arm still around her. Quietly, she disentangled herself and got up. James stirred briefly as she kissed his forehead and whispered ‘Night’, before tiptoeing from the room. Out in the hallway, the grandfather clock greeted her with its steady tick. The thought of it stopping sent her hurrying upstairs without looking to see what the time was, falling gratefully into bed next to Annabel.
Grace was woken again what felt like five minutes later, to the sound of Millie crying. Grey light was beginning to poke through the curtains, but inside the cottage it was dim. She found Millie sitting up cuddling Mr Pink, and Grace only needed one look at her wide-eyed tear-streaked face to know that Millie wouldn’t be settled back to sleep. She lifted her little girl out of the cot, trying to stave off her own tiredness by blinking hard and rubbing her eyes. They began to play together on the floor by the cot, but after a while Millie grew restless. Grace picked her up and tiptoed downstairs to get breakfast, trying not to wake James.
‘What time is it?’ James asked from the depths of the sofa.
‘Too early,’ Grace muttered, then walked back out to check the grandfather clock, only registering the silence as she did so.
‘The clock’s stopped,’ she said in bewilderment. The hands were pointing to just past three.
‘It must be stuck, I’ll look at it later,’ James mumbled sleepily.
‘Thanks.’ Grace went over to her mobile phone on the tabletop. ‘It’s nearly eight o’clock,’ she said, surprised. Then she pulled back the curtain and looked out. ‘And I think you could say that we’re snowed in.’
She heard the sofa’s springs creak as James pushed himself up, then he was behind her, peering through the window. ‘Bloody hell!’
The garden had disappeared. It looked as though someone had laid a sparkling white blanket from the level of the low garden wall right up to the cottage. Only the tips of the taller hedges poked through, and the bare trellis arch midway along the path.
‘I’ll have to dig us out,’ James declared. ‘We have got a spade somewhere?’
‘I… I don’t know,’ Grace said. ‘I didn’t think about it -’
James made a noise of exasperation.
‘Do we actually need to go outside?’ Grace queried. ‘Unless you’re going to shovel your way right over the top of the moors, I think it’s safe to say we’re stuck.’
In reply, James threw himself onto a chair.
‘What’s the problem?’ Grace asked, amused. ‘You’re always talking about how much you love the snow.’
‘Yes, because in Switzerland I can ski on it,’ James grumbled. ‘It’s completely different.’
‘You could take Millie sledging instead…’
‘Well, we can’t do anything much until we can get down the path.’ James began to pull on his jeans and a jumper. ‘I’ll search around and see what I can find.’
‘Be my guest.’ Grace felt annoyed as she carried Millie across to the kitchen area and sat her in the high chair. James always had to make big issues out of little problems. Adam would have found it the perfect excuse to cuddle up in front of the television. She briefly wondered whether Ben would be shovelling snow right now.
Daylight had finally conquered the night by the time Annabel appeared downstairs. ‘What’s that noise?’ she asked, tuning in to a recurring scraping sound.
Grace went across to the window and pulled back the curtain. ‘James found a shovel, so he’s clearing the path. I’m not sure why, but he obviously thinks it’s important.’
‘Wow!’ Annabel stared out of the window. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much snow.’ She spun around, beaming. ‘Let’s get our coats on and make snowmen all day, Millie.’ She ruffled her niece’s hair, and was delighted when Millie looked up and grinned at her.
Grace laughed at them both. ‘Sounds great. But can you give me some help first?’
Annabel’s eyes narrowed.
‘Don’t look at me like that. Last night I remembered I hadn’t checked the boxes in the cellar for Adam’s passport, and so I took a look, and sure enough – I found it.’
‘Really? Why on earth did he put it down there?’
‘I don’t know. I wish he’d told me about the damn cellar in the first place. I have no idea why he didn’t.’
‘Maybe he thought you knew about it,’ Annabel suggested, shrugging.
As Grace considered that, her annoyance eased a little. ‘Perhaps. Anyway, I want it emptied while you two are here to help, it’s too creepy to do it on my own.’
‘I don’t believe you sometimes,’ Annabel muttered, flinging herself onto a chair. ‘Some Christmas holiday this is turning out to be. Well I’m sorry, but you can count me out – it’s bloody freezing and I bet there are rats down there. Get James to bring the boxes up.’
‘Look, it won’t take long,’ Grace tried to persuade her. ‘And you can sit at the top and sort the stuff out. We’ll get through it in no time if we all pitch in.’
A few hours later, Grace felt like she was corralling unruly sheep. Annabel and James had agreed to help, but both would slip away endlessly – James to check on the football scores; Annabel for any reason that would avoid the task at hand. At least when Millie got up it meant that her enthusiastic auntie was happy to keep her entertained, leaving Grace free to go through things.
By mid-afternoon they had done well. There were piles of full boxes and binbags destined for either the tip or a charity shop. The cellar was now rimmed with bare, grimy shelves.
‘Okay,’ Grace conceded, when she took stock of how much they had done. ‘Let’s take a break.’
‘Finally, she lets us rest.’ James sat down heavily on the stairs and leaned against the wall.
‘Let me tell you this before I forget,’ Annabel said. She patted the three boxes in front of her. ‘These look like they contain personal effects, letters and suchlike, so you’d better go through them. It’s strange that they weren’t in the attic with the rest.’
‘Perhaps Connie and Bill got too old to clamber about in the attic,’ Grace replied, opening one of them and rummaging inside, finding exercise books, notebooks, more photograph albums, newspaper clippings and loose papers, all mish-mashed together. She sighed. ‘There’s so much of this stuff. It’s such a wrench, going through all their memories and deciding which ones are worth keeping – that’s if I can even make sense of them. Sometimes I’ve no idea why they held on to something. I wish I wasn’t packing away their lives with so little idea of what these things meant to them.’
However, if there was anything in the cottage containing more information about why Adam might have disappeared, then she was getting down to the last few places to look. The suggestion that these boxes might reveal something important gave her a renewed sense of purpose.
‘If I take these upstairs, can you two entertain Millie for a while?’ she asked them.
‘Anything if it keeps me away from those damn boxes,’ Annabel replied, while James added, ‘Sure.’
When Grace got into her room, she lifted the boxes one by one and tipped their contents onto the bedcovers, knowing that if she had to clear them away before she could go to sleep tonight it would make her work faster. She climbed up to sit amid the chaotic mountain of papers, and began rifling through. Anything she wasn’t interested in got tossed back into an empty crate, and she began to stack the rest in piles by her bedside, next to her neglected copy of Rebecca.
Her spirits sank as the collection of papers she wanted to look at more closely grew larger. Bundles of letters, mainly, or notepads that had been scribbled in. Bank statements that she didn’t feel she could throw away without checking. Old greeting cards. Photos – both in albums and loose. A couple of school yearbooks that might well contain something about Adam. As she was going through them, it became clear that at least one of the boxes had contained Rachel’s effects. It made her think of Connie and Bill facing the same task, whittling down their daughter’s belongings to retain the official documents that proved her existence, and the photos and letters that could help them recapture Rachel, even if only for a moment, as her image or words briefly fleshed out the spectre of her from the confines of memory. For all Grace knew, so many other things she had touched in the past few weeks had secrets of their own to tell, but they had died along with their keepers. All Grace could do was unwittingly dispose of the evidence.
She picked up a bundle of letters. They were written in the same handwriting, and she plucked one from the top and opened it. Without knowing the contents she couldn’t determine their value, but she still felt as though she were snooping.
Dear Mum and Dad,
I hope you are both all right. I know you will still be getting over the shock, but
When you see Meredith, please could you tell her that I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye. I’ve included a letter for you to pass on to her. I miss you all very much. I know it’s hard, but I’m sure I am doing the right thing. Why don’t you come and see us when the baby arrives?
All my love,
Rachel
Grace plucked the next one from the pile.
Dear Mum and Dad,
It’s good to hear that they have fixed the road – it’s hard enough driving up the bank without potholes to avoid! I’m glad to hear that the show went well too, Mum, I’m sure you did a brilliant job of organising it.
The whole city is talking about the Viking house found under the old Craven’s factory. We went for a walk over there yesterday, but there’s not much to see at the site. Plenty of people trying to have a look, mind.
Thanks for the money, but please don’t feel you have to keep sending it – I’m doing fine on social security, and I have earned a bit more doing some casual typing work – finally, all those hours practising are paying off. It’s good work, because I can do it when Adam sleeps. I’m lucky that at the moment he’s a good sleeper in the day, though he keeps me up all night long sometimes! I can’t wait for you to meet him – come and see us soon.
All my love,
Rachel
Grace stared out of the bedroom window at the wintry afternoon twilight. From the letters, it sounded as though Connie and Bill had been trying to support their daughter, however upset they must have been when she had run away pregnant. It was strange, seeing Rachel’s handwriting; trying to imagine her in a tiny flat in York, caring for a new baby while working to make ends meet. In her mind, Grace had conjured Rachel up so vividly that she felt a strong bond with Adam’s mother. However, these letters were reminders that she didn’t really know anything about the flesh-and-blood person who had written them and worn the clothes that Grace and Annabel had danced in.
She glanced at a few more pages to find that they contained similar themes. She would have to go through them one at a time, but it could probably wait. It seemed unlikely that Jonny’s name was going to come up. Grace wasn’t even sure how much Adam’s grandparents had known of the boy who had got their daughter into trouble, but presumably since Jonny had emigrated there wasn’t a lot left to say, and everyone would have had no choice but to move on.
She sat for a while, considering what to do next. If she didn’t uncover any evidence of Jonny among these papers, she was going to have to look at other options. She could try to call the library tomorrow, but suspected it would be closed for the Christmas holiday.
Deep in thought, she went down the stairs and discovered Millie holding a biscuit in each hand, a half-empty packet on the table. ‘She won’t eat her dinner now!’ Grace said jokingly as she stroked Millie’s hair.
‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t think of that.’ Annabel put the packet on one side. ‘Listen, I was wondering about going to see Meredith while we’re snowed in. If I give her a call, maybe James can dig me up as far as the schoolhouse so I can interview her. What do you reckon?’
‘Er, excuse me – I don’t know about that,’ James interrupted. ‘Have you seen how high the snow is?’
‘It’ll be better in the morning,’ Annabel replied confidently.
‘Fine by me,’ Grace said. ‘In fact, I might come with you.’ A new awareness reinvigorated her. There was another way to find out more about Jonny, after all. It was Meredith who had been able to tell her the most about him so far. Perhaps if Grace pressed her further she might remember more. Grace couldn’t help but feel that locating Jonny was pivotal – that if she found him, she would find answers.
As her mind slowed, she became aware of the room again, and noticed that they were accompanied by a steady ticking.
‘Did you fix the clock?’ She looked at James.
He appeared confused. ‘No, I forgot all about it.’
Grace turned to Annabel, who shook her head. She stiffened, then walked out into the hallway.
The pendulum was swinging steadily back and forth. Grace’s head began to throb. ‘When did it start again?’ she asked as she came back into the lounge.
Annabel shrugged and James said, ‘I didn’t notice, sorry.’
Grace glanced at her watch, and frowned. ‘It’s telling the right time.’
‘Perhaps it hadn’t stopped after all,’ James suggested.
‘You do remember it stopping, don’t you?’ Grace pressed him.
‘Yeah, I think so.’ But he didn’t look sure.
‘Think, James – do you or don’t you?’
She saw James exchange a look with Annabel, before he answered, ‘Don’t worry, Grace, I remember.’