Dark Places Page 7

  ‘I think your attitudes are out-dated,’ Amelia said. ‘Women are the future. Times are changing.’

  ‘I am not sure.’

  ‘Well I am. I wish to be a travel writer and no man is going to stop me.’

  ‘Someone will have to support you. I am not sure father will pay for you to travel.’

  ‘I am not expecting father to pay. I will pay for myself.’

  But how?’

  Amelia scowled. ‘I will find a way.’

  Amelia’s insight into women’s rights did not sway her; even so, when she struggled to fill her time and yearned for the company of the female members of her family, she may find herself wanting. Amelia’s enthusiastic suggestion that women could have both a husband and children and a career was contagious. She tried to dismiss the notion as fantasy, yet the more she considered it, the more appealing it became, and her heart tingled. It would put an end to the loneliness and boredom, and it would give her a personal income. The satisfaction would be immense.

  ‘What would you wish to do, if you were able?’ Amelia asked.

  ‘I want for nothing more than family life.’

  ‘You must wish for something else. You can’t tell me you enjoy living out here, all alone.’

  ‘It is all I have wanted. Jack is a good man. I will not let him down by drifting into a fantasy world. No man would wish to wed an independent woman.’

  ‘Really Catherine, you should not think like that. You underestimate yourself . . . as well as the male gender. Thomas has no problems with me wishing for a career, and I doubt Jack would either. He may just take a little persuading.’

  ‘No! And please do not ever mention this to him. It’s not right.’

  ‘Surely he wants to see you happy?’

  ‘I am happy.’

  Really? How can you be fulfilled when you have nothing to do with your days? You could have so much more – just what the men have. Don’t forget that.’

  Catherine clamped shut her mouth as Amelia's eyes drilled. Could Amelia be right in that women were just as capable as men were? She wanted to question her further, but she feared being drawn into her ways. It was disrespectful to suggest that even a small part of her wanted more from life. She had to bury her fantasies; a woman’s duty was to her husband. Jack was her future.

  Jack and Catherine strolled along a well-trodden path passing through their small orchard before reaching a gentle incline with heather and gorse bushes. Their steps were small and sedate and their words were few, and they expressed their love through their sparkling eyes and heartfelt smiles since their marriage and companionship remained a novelty.

  The narrow path weaved around an overgrown patch of weeds. He reached for her hand and assisted her around two boulders. His palm was rugged and his grip firm; it enhanced her femininity, her soft delicate fingers secured and warmed. Then, having negotiated the difficulties, he held her gaze. His features were strong - he had an angular chin, prominent cheekbones, and well-defined eyebrows - and his physique was slim and sturdy. He was her wonderful husband. They continued up the incline.

  A bird darted across the path in front of Catherine causing her to jolt. Reacting, she tightened her grip.

  Jack turned. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘It took me by surprise.’

  He guided her to another boulder where she perched upon the edge of the smooth rock.

  ‘You are beautiful Catherine.’ He kissed her hand. ‘I am a lucky man.’

  ‘No. I am the lucky one. You provide well. I am fortunate to be able to live in such a lovely house in such fantastic surroundings.’

  ‘My family is blessed with wealth. Is Miss Annie working well?’

  ‘Yes. I scrutinise her work and punish her for her errors, but she is a quick learner. You chose well.’

  ‘A friend of father’s recommended her. She is from a conscientious family who live nearby. They live in squalid surroundings, as you would expect, but unlike many, they seem to have morals.’

  She nodded. ‘That is surprising for the lower classes.’

  He agreed. ‘Shall we continue with our walk?’

  She stood up, greeted by a rush of nausea. He noticed her sway and studied her anxious expression.

  ‘You don’t look well. Are you sure you can carry on?’

  ‘I need the fresh air, but there is something I must tell you, Jack.’

  ‘Is there something wrong?’

  ‘No. Nothing is wrong.’

  He reached for her hands and held them tight, close to his chest.

  ‘I am with child.’

  Oh, Catherine.’

  He pulled her closer, delight gripping his skin. Her rounded bosom pressed into his firm chest, their bodies uniting, their shared excitement dancing like fireflies in the night.

  That is delightful news,’ he continued, ‘how long have you known?’

  Panic spread across her face. ‘I wasn’t keeping it from you.’

  ‘Darling, I wasn’t suggesting you were.’

  ‘I found out a couple of days ago. The baby is due in spring.’

  ‘I did not think we would have long to wait.’

  Smiling at each other, they continued along the path to a clearing, overlooking the valley. Families grouped by the river and in the meadow, all ages, all generations. It was a scene of tranquillity, a scene portraying many happy lives.

  ‘Our child will be well cared for. It will have the best of everything,’ Catherine said.

  ‘It will be the first of many.’

  She turned to her husband and her expression grew stern. ‘I am impatient Jack. I want many children . . . now.’

  ‘I am doing my best darling, but I can only provide you with one at a time.’

  She snuggled into him and the gentle warmth of his breath tickled her skin. She did not want to let go, and she did not want the day to end. Tomorrow, she knew, her loneliness would return.

  Chapter 8

  Present Day

  Michaela sat on the sofa and pressed a cushion to her stomach, keen to process what she had just seen. Her visions had always perturbed her, and her stomach rolled with a desperate attempt to gain understanding. However, it was Sam’s response she feared the most.

  In the past, she had always kept her ability private, fearing people considering her weird, different, or special. She could almost hear the mocking laughter and cries of derision as she opened up her heart and spoke of her vision. Why would anyone believe her? After all, it was not something she could prove. Yet, what she had seen was as real to her then as what was in front of her now.

  Sam hovered at the doorway, urging her to share her moment. His expression was one of confusion and concern, yet she sensed his attack hovering on his lips. ‘You are being ridiculous,’ he would say, ‘Catherine was not here. I would have seen her.’

  How could she defend herself? Of course, Sam would be right. There had not been a ghost, and she had not vanished to another time, instead, as an invisible observer, she had seen Catherine back in what she surmised were the early nineteen-hundreds.

  Catherine had been looking at the wedding photograph on the wall when a man appeared at her rear. He placed his arms around her and rested his hands on her pregnant belly. She turned her head and gazed into his eyes with deep affection. He had responded with a heartfelt smile and then had pressed his lips onto her pallid cheek.

  Sam broke her from her thoughts. ‘Michaela, please tell me what happened.’

  She wanted to dismiss his request, but his plea was so intense she could not disregard it. In his eyes, she saw understanding - respect and appreciation - yet it was something she dared not believe. She had misinterpreted that same look before in her mother, and the mockery and chastisement had always followed.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ she said, looking to her lap.

  He came over, crouched at her feet, and reached for her hand. ‘You said you saw Catherine. You said you were there.’

  ‘I was mistaken.’


  ‘Are you sure? As soon as you touched the photo frame, you went into a trance. Do you have psychic abilities?’

  She jerked. Of course not! That’s a ridiculous thing to say.’

  ‘It’s no reason to be ashamed. A friend of my parents’ is psychic. Her name is Liz Munroe. She can touch people and bits of their lives spring into her head.’

  Really?’

  ‘Yes. Once she shook hands with a young woman and immediately sensed she was pregnant. She saw the woman a year later with a four-month-old baby.’

  ‘She admitted to that?’

  ‘She wasn’t ashamed. It’s a gift.’

  ‘It’s also a bit weird.’

  He moved to the edge of the sofa and sat next to her. ‘I was told it took her a while to learn to deal with it, but she managed. It proved to be a blessing.’

  She swallowed hard. Perhaps he did understand. ‘I can’t do anything like that.’

  ‘But you have an ability to do this.’

  ‘I . . . I don’t know.’

  ‘You shouldn’t be reluctant to develop it. It could help you . . . it could help others.’

  ‘You believe me?’

  ‘Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?’

  She flung her arms around his back and tears and laughter flowed. Finally, she had someone to confide in, someone who wouldn’t take pleasure in seeing her squirm.

  Her relief was palpable. It was a wondrous sensation.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, after a few moments.

  He gave her a puzzled look and more tears flowed. He was acting as though it was normal to be able to touch objects and get an insight into the history. He didn’t think her weird, didn’t think her deranged, and didn’t think her beyond help. She pulled away and their locked eyes. He had a glint in his eye and she laughed again.

  ‘Why would you think I wouldn’t believe you?’ he asked.

  ‘I . . . I don’t know.’

  ‘Neither do I.’ He wiped away a tear from her eye. So come on, what did you see?’

  ‘Catherine was pregnant . . . she was with a man. I could tell they were in love and happy.’

  ‘It was definitely her?’

  ‘Yes, it had to be,’ she scanned the room, ‘I think they were in here. The photograph was on that wall.’

  ‘Did you see anything else?’

  ‘No. When it happens, it’s confusing. I get scared. I never know where I am, but it feels as real as what I am seeing now. I . . . I don’t know how or why it happens.’

  ‘It’s called retrocognition. It’s like premonition, but relating to the past.’

  Michaela nodded and thought about her other experiences. Not all of them could be explained by touch; sometimes they just happened, and often without warning.

  ‘I had another vision,’ she said.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘It was about this house, months before we knew anything about it. I saw us here. We were happy, and I had a feeling we had children.’

  ‘So that’s why you felt we had to move here.’

  ‘Yes. I knew it was meant to be.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me this before?’

  Michaela fiddled with her wedding ring. ‘I thought you’d think me weird.’

  ‘Of course I wouldn’t, and I don’t . . . I never would. All kinds of things happen that can’t be explained.’

  ‘But I do sound a bit crazy, saying I’ve seen Catherine.’

  Sam stood to leave. ‘I don’t know. Maybe you do have a connection to her. We’re not going to suffer from hauntings if we have her on side.’ He left the room.

  She followed him with her eyes and then listened to the sound of running water coming from the kitchen and the chinking of mugs meeting with the scratched grey surface. He was right; it would mean their baby would be safe, and what was more important than that?

  After a welcome coffee break, Michaela returned to the vegetable patch and Sam continued to empty junk from the outbuildings. She had already cleared the weeds from the soil but still needed to sift it to check for root pieces. With the use of a large garden sieve, she completed the task in quick time.

  She raised herself to her feet and fought a dizzy spell. Her neck muscles down one side were taut, and the pain extended along her shoulder. Her stomach swirled and sickness lingered in her throat. Fearing the onset of a migraine, she glanced at the runner bean seeds and calculated how long she would have before she needed to give in. Upon realising she wouldn’t have long, she strode to the side of the barn to collect a bag of manure.

  As she progressed, she searched for a distraction from her discomfort and wondered if Catherine had ever grown vegetables. Gardening had been popular in Victorian times, and with a plot this size, it seemed likely. She wondered what other similarities they shared. Presumably, Catherine had moved into the house after her marriage and shortly afterward discovered her pregnancy. The prospect of motherhood would have been joyous. It was an uncanny coincidence.

  Michaela touched her abdomen, searching for contact with her own tiny life. She refused to believe that Catherine, a woman devoted to her husband and excited by the birth of her child could be responsible in spirit form for killing children, yet the words of warning voiced by the locals continued to echo inside her thoughts. Catherine had been a normal woman and a loving mother and wife. Michaela had not sensed evil or murderous tendencies. Her involvement was vicious gossip.

  Irritated by the unjust actions of the locals, she reached for her runner bean seeds and thrust them into the small holes. When she stood upright pins and needles spread across her back and shoulders. Disorientated, she craved darkness and confinement.

  Sam was lugging a broken chest across to the skip.

  ‘Don’t throw that away,’ she said.

  Puzzled, Sam rested the chest on the ground, relaxed his muscles, and took a huge breath of air. ‘Why?’

  ‘It was Catherine’s.’

  ‘We can’t keep everything.’ He looked at the piece. ‘Anyway, it only looks about fifty years old.’

  Disappointed, she strode across and ran her fingers across the grooves in the wood. It was broken at the rear, beyond restoration.

  ‘Have you found anything else that could have belonged to her?’ she asked.

  ‘No, I don’t think so. I promise to tell you if I do.’

  She passed a stern glare. ‘Are you trying to fob me off?’

  Of course not. Why would I do that?’

  She did not reply.

  ‘Can you help me get this in the skip?’

  She agreed, and together they lifted it into the skip. It crashed onto the other pieces of scrap, and the sound rang through her ears, enhancing her head pains.

  ‘Did you have to do that?’

  Apologising, he strode back to the outbuilding.

  ‘Despite what everyone thinks, Catherine was a good woman.’

  He spun around, passing a puzzled gaze. ‘I never said she wasn’t.’

  She folded her arms and pouted her lips. She didn’t want to have to admit it, but he was right to defend himself. Unlike everyone else, he hadn’t spoken against Catherine. ‘No one else agrees.’

  ‘They must have their reasons, Michaela.’

  ‘But this house is not haunted and nothing bad has happened to us. Someone started these rumours, probably someone from the past who had a grudge against Catherine or the Cooper family.’

  ‘Why do you feel you need to defend her?’

  She clenched her teeth. ‘I am not defending her!’

  He raised his eyebrows and flung broken pieces of plastic and wood into the wheelbarrow.

  ‘I am not defending her,’ she repeated, ‘but who cares if I am? She was pregnant, in love, and happy. Catherine was not evil.’

  ‘We don’t know anything about Catherine. How can you be so presumptuous?’

  She stomped away. ‘I knew you wouldn’t understand. You are just like everyone else!’

  Ignoring his cries to wait, she rushed
into the house and shut the living room door. She knew he had chased after her and could sense him at the other side of the door, probably resting his hand on the handle and considering his options. She wanted him gone, but she also wanted his unfailing support.

  The door opened. Sam peered through the gap.

  She did not move and stared at a mark on the floor.

  ‘Please don’t say I don’t understand because I do,’ he said. ‘But what you saw was a tiny glimpse of her life, one moment in time. It didn’t tell you everything.’

  ‘I could feel that she was a good woman. My intuition has never let me down before.’

  ‘Okay.’ He perched on the sofa and placed his hand on her thigh. ‘Maybe we should find out more about Catherine.’

  ‘I’ve tried. Everyone is so hell bent on spreading rumours.’

  ‘There is someone who might know something.’

  Who?’

  Your mother.’

  Michaela turned away and folded her arms across her middle. Absolutely not.’

  ‘I have invited her over,’ he said sheepishly, ‘she’s visiting tomorrow.’

  ‘What? You should have asked me first!’

  ‘I had hoped you would be pleased. She sounded supportive and was keen to visit.’

  Grimacing, she jumped to her feet. It was clear she couldn’t do anything about it, and she wasn’t in a fit state to argue, and muttered her agreement, weaved past him, and stomped up the stairs to the bedroom. Her head pounded with an intense throbbing pain. She wanted darkness and absolute silence, but most of all she wanted another vision, one that would prove Catherine’s innocence and one that would prove her to be the kind and caring wife and mother she assumed her to be.

  Was she hoping for the impossible? Only time would tell.

  Chapter 9