House Of Shadows: Discover the thrilling untold story of the Winter Queen. Nicola Cornick
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dragging their heels, couples hand in hand. Holly saw them all as though she was looking through one of her pieces of engraved glass, clear but slightly distorted. They ambled with no intent, admiring the view over the Downs where the weathercock pierced the sky and the dreamy curve of the hills broadened to fill the horizon. Holly felt shockingly lonely.
Her phone rang.
‘Hol?’ It was Guy. He sounded hung over. ‘What’s going on? Why the seven thousand calls? What gives?’
‘Ben’s still missing,’ Holly said bluntly. ‘He hasn’t come back since last night.’
‘What?’ Guy sounded puzzled, affronted even. ‘Well where is he?’
‘I don’t know,’ Holly said. ‘That’s the point. No one knows. Tasha says—’ She stopped abruptly but it was too late.
‘He’s got another woman,’ Guy finished. There was glee in his tone. ‘Good for him.’
‘I’m sure she’s wrong,’ Holly said.
Guy ignored that. ‘Are you heading back then?’ He said. ‘If Tasha’s been to pick up the kid—’
‘No,’ Holly said. ‘I’m staying here until Ben turns up.’
There was a silence. ‘What?’ Guy said. ‘Why on earth would you want to hang around?’
‘In case something’s happened to him,’ Holly said. ‘I wondered if you wanted to come down?’ She could hear the plea in her voice and hated herself for it. Whatever Tasha had said, she wasn’t normally so needy, but today it felt as though all her defences had been stripped away. It wasn’t that she particularly wanted Guy, she realised, just company and comfort. She wanted to share the burden of Ben’s disappearance. It was horrible feeling so alone.
She thought she heard Guy swear. ‘Hol,’ he said. ‘You’re over-reacting. Your brother’s not a child. He can take care of himself. For God’s sake come back—’
‘I’m worried,’ Holly said flatly. ‘I know something isn’t right.’
This time Guy definitely did swear. ‘For fuck’s sake, Holly! You’re not his keeper!’
‘Forget it,’ Holly said swiftly. ‘Forget I asked you to come down. And don’t expect me back either.’ She snapped the phone shut, cutting off Guy’s spluttering.
The brief flash of anger had lifted her spirits but they fell again immediately. She felt lost as soon as she stepped into the woods. The canopy of trees closed overhead, shutting her into green darkness. In all directions paths veered off and criss-crossed, losing themselves. She went two hundred yards along one and stopped, realising that she hadn’t even put her walking boots on. She felt tears of frustration and anger well up in her throat. She made her way back down to the road feeling shaky and upset.
What was she trying to do? She was one person trying to prove a point in the face of what seemed like massive indifference. No one else seemed to think that there was anything wrong and it was frightening to be wavering on the edge of believing it herself, thinking she was mad or deluded.
A wedding had just finished at the church by the little stone bridge. As the clock on the tower struck quarter to four, the church door opened and the wedding party spilled out into the churchyard, laughing and talking. Holly paused by the gate. A sudden breeze was plastering the bride’s veil against her lipstick and snatching at the guests’ coats like a demanding child. It picked up the confetti and whirled it around Holly’s head like blossom, and it tugged the bouquet from the bride’s hands, bowling it along the ground to land at Holly’s feet.
Holly bent slowly to pick it up. It was a posy of pink rosebuds, scentless.
Suddenly the wedding guests were all around her and the bride had come hurrying down the flagstone path towards her, laughing.
‘Thank you so much! I don’t know what I’d have done for the photographs otherwise!’
Holly handed the bouquet over, smiling. Her face felt a little stiff, as though it would not bend in the right places. No one seemed to have noticed though. They were all wrapped up in happiness. They didn’t know how out of touch she felt, how cut off. They went back towards the church door, where the photographer tried to arrange them in the neat rows required for the official pictures. At the same time she was aware of a sharp pain lodged beneath her breastbone. She did not begrudge these people their happiness but it made her loneliness feel suddenly unbearably acute.
‘Are you OK?’
Holly blinked. She was not the only onlooker. A man was standing to the side of the lych gate. Youngish, thirty-two or three – she was bad at guessing ages. She felt a flash of recognition, sharp and sure, as though she knew him, but as he came closer she realised that he was a stranger.
He was tall, dark and durable looking in a battered jacket, brown moleskin trousers and boots. His eyes were very dark, as dark as the hair that fell across his brow. An expensive-looking camera hung about his neck. Holly thought he was probably a tourist, out walking in the woods and attracted by the wedding as she had been. She forced a smile.
‘I’m fine, thanks. I just stopped to watch.’
He smiled back, but his dark gaze was keen. ‘If you’re sure? You look a bit … shaken.’
Behind them the group was re-arranging itself for yet another photograph. Holly put her hands in the pockets of the fleece and turned away.
‘Don’t let me stop you taking your pictures—’
The man grinned, obviously recognising the brush-off. ‘The sun’s in the wrong place. Besides, it’s too organised for me. I like spontaneity.’
Holly frowned a little. ‘Spontaneity. Yes. That’s nice. Excuse me …’
She had only gone twenty yards from him when she had to slow down because the tears were running down her face and dropping off her chin, and she couldn’t see where she was going. She felt bewildered and acutely embarrassed. She stumbled a little on the path, heard a step behind her, and felt his hand on her arm.
‘Look, can I help—’
‘No!’ Holly turned and glared at him and his hand dropped to his side. He took a step back.
‘Okay.’ His voice was quiet, oddly soothing. ‘Well … Take care—’
‘Oh God, I’m sorry.’ A shred of conventional manners stirred in Holly and she scrubbed her hands across her face, wiping away the tears. ‘I really didn’t mean to be rude—’
His lips twitched as though he were about to smile. He had a striking face, thin and brown, with high cheekbones and dark, watchful eyes beneath strongly marked brows. Holly found she wanted to go on looking at him.
‘Please don’t apologise,’ he said easily. ‘I’m the one making a nuisance of myself—’
Holly started to cry again. ‘Don’t be so nice about it—’
‘Look, this is silly. Why don’t we go and get a cup of tea until you feel a bit better? There’s a tea room just down the road, isn’t there?’
‘Yes, but—’ Holly felt horribly vulnerable. She didn’t want anyone to see her looking like this. But they were already at the courtyard and he was guiding her to one of the outside tables where she could sit in a corner, partially sheltered from view.
Holly sat down and watched as he went inside, to emerge a few minutes later, carrying two big blue and white striped mugs. The steam from them floated sideways. She wrapped her hands around hers and drank deeply. It was scalding hot, but comforting.
‘Thank you so much,’ she said. ‘What do I owe you?’
‘Don’t worry about it.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘In case you don’t take tea with complete strangers, my name’s Mark.’
‘Holly.’