The Silence of Ghosts Read online

  ‘She’s getting older now, but she’s still the cook in a restaurant for tourists. There’s plenty of work for her in spring and summer, but less for the rest of the year. In winter, she sews nick-nacks for the tourist shops for them to sell come summer. Teddy bears and such: she’s very good. She’ll knit you a hat, if you like.’

  I smiled.

  ‘Octavia might like a teddy bear. She left Boris behind in London. I’ll have to pay, of course.’

  Her face lit up.

  ‘My mum’s teddy bears are the best in England. Wait and see. You’ll get a discount as my patient.’

  I shook my head vigorously.

  ‘No discount, or I’ll cancel the order. Anyway, I’m quite a rich patient, so tell her she can overcharge.’

  ‘It’s a deal,’ she said.

  ‘How did your father die?’ I asked. ‘He can’t have been very old.’

  ‘He was the captain of the Lady of the Lake. One of his passengers fell overboard, a little boy. My father jumped in to save him, but a current caught him and pulled him under.’

  ‘And the boy?’

  ‘Someone else managed to hook him back on board. They took him to the infirmary, but he survived. He was a rich boy like you were, a scholar at Eton.’

  ‘Did his parents do anything to compensate for your father’s loss?’

  She sighed and shook her head. ‘They went back to Manchester without a further word. My mother went out to cook and sew.’

  I shook my head in disgust.

  ‘Some rich people don’t deserve what they have.’

  She reached across the table and put her hand briefly on top of mine.

  ‘Would you have compensated my family, Dominic?’

  I laughed.

  ‘If it were up to me, the answer is “yes”. But if it were down to my father or mother, they’d probably demand that you pay them. They’d probably say it was all your father’s fault for sailing badly.’

  ‘You don’t seem too happy with your father. Or is that just something you say when you’re talking to commoners like myself?’

  ‘If you ever meet my father, you’ll take that back. I admired him as a child, but once I got old enough to see what was going on, I learned to stay out of his way.’

  ‘What you need, Dominic Lancaster, is a woman. Someone who’ll stick with you through thick and thin, who’d take an interest in you.’

  I sniffed.

  ‘I’m not much to be interested in. There’s a lot less of me now than there was a couple of months ago.’

  ‘Sometimes with amputees,’ she picked up on my jest, ‘they find there’s more of them afterwards than before. It will change your attitude to everything. It’s too early for you yet, but give it time. If we were to meet again a year from now, I’d find you a different person. But you were going to tell me about your family.’

  I explained about the Lancasters’ long-standing involvement with Portugal and the port trade. She hung on my every word, fascinated by this exotic business of which she’d had no notion until then. She had never taken a glass of port, so I told her where she could find a bottle and some glasses with a decanter. I decanted the wine and poured two glasses. We sipped at them as we talked. She said she liked it. The irises of her eyes were a dark amber colour, and the candles caught fire in them.

  ‘Of course,’ I said, ‘things have grown difficult for us since the war started. Portugal’s a neutral country, but the English have had a treaty with it since 1373. That was the Anglo-Portuguese Treaty, and it was ratified in 1386 with the Treaty of Windsor. It’s the oldest alliance in the world. So Portugal still sends goods to us. They have the largest deposits of wolfram in Europe, and they use it to keep both sides happy. They ship some white wine and some port, as well as wine from Madeira, but it’s hard to get ships and ensuring deliveries if you do get them. Our last shipment was sent to the bottom of the Atlantic by a U-boat.

  ‘We do have a large warehouse outside London, where we keep some barrels under strict conditions. And we provide some very fine ports to Buckingham Palace and the House of Lords, where there is always a demand. Ten-year-old crusted ports, some forty-year-old vintages, with some cheaper bottles for the wider market. But our stocks are running low, and we aren’t replenishing them as quickly as my father would like.’

  She decided that she definitely liked the port and was enthralled by what I told her about Portugal. I had only been there a few times, but on one holiday I had taken up the Portuguese guitar, a very different creature to the standard Spanish instrument. I once dreamed of taking it up professionally and playing for fado singers in Lisbon.

  ‘I’ll get my parents to send one up from London,’ I said. ‘I should practise anyway, and the present moment is the perfect excuse.’

  I was greatly tempted to ask her to stay the night, but thought she might misunderstand my motives, or, understanding them, find them cause for scorn. She left on her bicycle and Octavia locked the door.

  I’ve been sleeping badly tonight, no doubt because of what Rose and Octavia had told me about the upstairs. My dreams were dark, for I saw shapes moving in semi-darkness, shapes that were neither human nor something else, shapes with veils across their eyes, dressed in black or grey, swaying, watching me from a short distance and always coming closer and mumbling what seemed to be words but were not words of any earthly kind, shapes with long, slim hands and fingers that separated light from darkness. In the dreams I saw children with white faces, but not children of this earth, not dead and not alive, not physical children yet warm, their eyes like dead eyes, yet awake. Somewhere words were repeated, but I could not quite make them out, and as I wake in these early hours, the cries are echoing through my mind and have not yet quite left.

  Thursday, 12 December

  When Octavia and I woke, it was still early and freezing cold. Rose told me yesterday that the forecasters said we’d have Arctic weather this winter, after last year’s mild conditions. It certainly felt Arctic first thing. I was reminded of Narvik and the days I had spent freezing on those waters.

  There were no disturbances of any kind during the morning, as far as I could tell. After lunch, Rose returned, bringing with her a man she introduced as Dr Raverat. He is a gentleman in his forties, tall and slender of build, mild of disposition, and quick to act. Rose had told him that we thought someone had broken in, and had been seen upstairs yesterday afternoon and later. She said nothing of the unpleasant sensations she and Octavia had experienced.

  Together, they went upstairs, alert for anything suspicious that might still be there, but when they came back down they admitted that they had seen nothing. The doctor said he had noticed a smell in the main bedroom, of burning or something very like it, but though he had searched diligently, he had found no trace of a fire in the room itself or in the large fireplace or, so far as he could tell, higher up in the chimney. It had been a false alarm, he said. He did find a dead raven covered in soot in the hearth, which he disposed of in the compost heap at the back of the house. It, he thought, may have been responsible for our disturbance, and it may well have dislodged enough ancient soot, and who could tell what else, giving rise to the burned smell.

  The doctor examined me, paying special attention to my leg.

  ‘Well, young man,’ he said as he asked Rose to re-dress my stump, ‘I’d say you’ve got off quite lightly, though it may not seem that way to you now. A lot of the war wounded I see in Carlisle are in a bad way, and likely to go on much like that. Last week I saw a man younger than yourself, a boy really, who’d lost both arms. Nurse Sansom here will get you up and about, have no doubt of it. You won’t know yourself by Christmas. You won’t have me to thank for it either. The first person to bring you round will be yourself. We medical people can’t do anything without your help. The second most important person is Nurse Sansom. You may not know it, but she’s one of the best nurses I’ve ever worked with. She’ll take good care of you and she’ll keep you going every time you may
feel like giving up. Just so long as you don’t go round falling in love with her, you’ll have nothing to worry about.’

  I blushed, for I am indeed falling in love with her already. I think she noticed, but she looked away and continued to fasten my leg with her customary skill. I thought she would leave with the doctor, but he stood and made his apologies, saying he had some urgent appointments back in Pooley Bridge. At the door he turned.

  ‘You’ve missed the daffodils,’ he said. ‘Just across the lake from here, about four miles away, on Gowbarrow Fell. It’s a desperately romantic spot. I’m sure Nurse Sansom will take you there in the spring. They are the very descendants of the ones Dorothy and William Wordsworth saw during a walk here in 1802. He wrote the poem not long afterwards.’

  ‘I’ve never heard of them,’ I said. ‘I know the poem, but that’s all.’ My parents weren’t really literary types, and though I’d read the poem at school, I’d never realized the real daffodils were so near to hand.

  ‘They’re a glorious sight. But, as I said, you’ll have to wait till spring.’

  ‘I may not be here by spring,’ I replied. Rose looked at me askance, as though my still being in Hallinhag by the end of winter was a certain thing.

  The doctor left. They’d brought her bicycle in the back of the vehicle, for Rose to get back on. They had also brought my artificial leg. She brought it in, carrying it in one hand to show how light it was. My spirits sank as I understood that this would be a key part of my life from here on.

  My trousers were still on the bed. Rose came to me, a little brisk at first, then growing more solicitous as things progressed.

  ‘We’re going outside,’ she said. ‘You’re going to take me for a walk. Although there’s no need to look for daffodils today.’

  ‘But it’s freezing outside,’ I protested. ‘You said so yourself. I haven’t been outside for weeks, and now it’s winter. When I was last outside for any time, I was off the African coast.’

  ‘For goodness’ sake,’ she exclaimed, ‘act like a man. You’re not a baby, and your body can take anything the winter throws at you in its stride. Staying indoors, staying in bed isn’t doing you any good, alongside the morphia.’

  ‘What if I fall?’ I felt crushed by the sudden change in her attitude.

  ‘Then you’ll pick yourself up and keep walking. Listen to me, Dominic, I’m sorry if I sound harsh, but if I let you off the hook you’ll wind up bedridden, and that’s the last thing any of us need. If we’re to be friends, you have to pull yourself together and make me proud of you. I can only admire a man who acts like a man. You did well to join the Navy and go into battle twice, but this is your real battle and you have to do most of it yourself.’

  She helped me dress, let me lean on her while I stood, and held me while I took hold of the crutches and fixed them beneath my arms. I was stung by what she said, but I could hardly deny the truth of it.

  We asked Octavia to stay behind. Rose thought her asthma might be activated by the cold.

  ‘I know someone who makes herbal remedies,’ said Rose. ‘I’m not supposed to encourage such things, but I know very well that this woman’s treatments work in some cases. I’ll ask her to call in some day.’

  Outside, the light was good. My movements were uncertain. I had to balance on each crutch in turn while I moved the other forward. Of course, this was easy enough when I could lean on my good leg, but I was still awkward with the amputation. But even there I found the artificial leg would bear my weight better than I at first imagined. And Rose clung to me by my left arm, very like a sweetheart, though I dared not let my thoughts stray in that direction.

  We walked down to the lake shore. As we did so we noticed four children standing a little further up, watching us, a boy of about sixteen and three girls of about ten or eleven.

  ‘Do you know them?’ I asked.

  Rose shook her head.

  ‘I’ve never seen them before. They do look an odd bunch, though. I imagine the youngest girl is about ten and the oldest twelve. The boy is a few years older. They should be better dressed for one thing. As it is, they look very pale, almost as though they are consumptive. Let me have a word with them.’

  She left me leaning against a tree and walked directly towards the children. As she did so, they turned and hurried away from her. After a few minutes’ searching, she came back to me.

  ‘That’s the funniest thing,’ she exclaimed. ‘They ran off, and by the time I got there they’d vanished. Well, no doubt I’ll see them around. Maybe somebody in Howtown or Martindale or Pooley Bridge will know who they are. I’d like to get them some warmer clothes.’

  I wondered about the children, though I said nothing to Rose. Octavia said she saw a pale face at an upstairs window. Was it possible these children, who might have been vagrants of some kind, Romanies perhaps, had found a way into the house, seeking shelter and warmth? Was it they who left the light on for Rose to see?

  We continued our walk. After weeks of bed rest, the cold air came as a shock. I was getting some exercise, but not the robust kind I had been used to. As we reached the lake, we saw that the water had frozen over from bank to bank. Ullswater is a narrow lake, nine miles long but only three wide, so I imagine the ice runs all the way along.

  ‘One year we came down for Christmas and there was ice just like this,’ I said. ‘I went skating with a friend from Glenridding. We went out every day of the holiday, and it was still frozen when we left.’

  ‘Where was Octavia?’

  ‘She was very small, and her asthma kept her away. Do you think this herbalist can help?’

  ‘I’m sure of it. But don’t tell Dr Raverat. He’s very agin natural healing.’

  ‘But you’re a nurse. Don’t you have problems with it?’

  ‘With a lot of it, yes – be careful there, there’s a pothole – but I’ve known some who are helped greatly with herbs.’

  I stopped and looked out over the lake.

  ‘God, what I’d give to skate again.’

  She squeezed my arm.

  ‘If you work at it, you’ll be skating by Christmas, if there’s any ice left by then. My only worry would be to make sure the ice wasn’t going to break. If that happened you could be in serious trouble, and I doubt very much I could get you out. Now, I think it’s time to get you back.’

  ‘What about staying to supper?’ I asked.

  She shook her head.

  ‘I have to get back to my mother. I’ve told her all about you. She likes to hear about my patients. I’ve asked her to come down to visit you some day, but she seems nervous about something and says she’d rather meet you in Pooley Bridge once you’re able to get there. She lived down here in Martindale before I was born. She says she knows this stretch of the woods well, knows your house too.’

  ‘Is that why she won’t come? What does she know about the house?’

  ‘She won’t say. She may know something, she may not. They’re all the same round here, they like mysteries, well-hidden secrets, things only a handful of them know. Treating patients is murder. Half the time they won’t say what’s really going on, they keep back symptoms, they even lie about them. My mother’s as bad as the next. All this rain and mist makes the lake people wary of letting the outside world in on their secrets.’

  ‘But I’m not the outside world. My family own this house . . .’

  ‘For the folk round here you’re an interloper, however many houses you may own.’

  ‘And what about you?’ I asked.

  ‘I’m one of them, but the time I spent training opened my eye. You can’t keep secrets and be a nurse, not a lot anyway.’

  ‘Are you keeping any secrets from me?’

  ‘I think we should get back,’ she said, and we started to pick our way along the uneven ground. I was gaining my balance, but I didn’t want to tell that to Rose. I enjoyed having her by my side, the feel of her hand on my arm. I won’t say this to anyone, but I think even more that I am falling
in love with her, and I know there’s nothing I can do about it.

  We both looked up as we reached the front door, to see if there was any sign of life upstairs; but nothing stirred. Perhaps it had, after all, been a trick of the light.

  Octavia came to see me safely in. Rose made to go, then turned and smiled.

  ‘I’m sorry I was hard on you earlier.’ Saying which she leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. Hours later, and I can still feel the touch of her lips on my skin.

  Octavia had prepared enough for an early meal. But as I entered, I detected something amiss with her. It was already dark, and the candles and lamps had been lit, perhaps more than was really necessary. We ate in silence, something that rarely happened between us. When I got into bed, wrapped in an eiderdown against the cold, she sat down facing me. Her face showed concern, as it had yesterday.

  ‘What’s up?’ I asked.

  She shrugged.

  I asked it again, this time using my hands.

  She shrugged again.

  ‘Something is wrong,’ I said. ‘Have you been upstairs again?’

  This time she shook her head.

  ‘Then what is it? Please don’t hold things back from me.’

  ‘It will only worry you,’ she said, clenching her jaws and putting her hands back together tightly. I am familiar with this behaviour. When Octavia wants to be difficult, nothing will budge her. We did not speak for the rest of the evening. After my exertions I wanted an early night. Octavia would not sleep without the candles, and I let her keep them.

  ‘But you can’t do this every night,’ I said. ‘Candles and oil are like gold-dust nowadays, and if we use too many we’ll have none at all in a week or two.’

  ‘I don’t want to sleep in the dark,’ she said.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because somebody’s living in this house. I heard them earlier. Whispering. When I turned round there was no one there. But there was still whispering.’

  Friday, 13 December

  I settled Octavia, who fell asleep soon afterwards in spite of her fears, but I found I could not get to sleep myself. I had a nagging pain from my stump, and remained awake until an hour or so before dawn. All night I listened for the whispers Octavia had told me about, but I heard nothing. It didn’t make sense, given how very deaf she is. I can’t think of anything loud enough for her to hear that I couldn’t hear much more clearly. But as long as I stayed awake, the house was silent.