The Girl in the Picture. Kerry Barrett
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Chapter 4
I let Ben guide me back to the house, telling myself it had been a trick of the light. There was that thing, wasn’t there, where your mind makes people out of abstract shapes? It must have been that.
While Ben made tea I chatted mindlessly with the boys, reminding them about the beach, and wondering if they’d like to go for a paddle in the sea tomorrow. The house seemed too big and echoey without our furniture – where were those removal men?
I looked round. Rationally I knew this house was as ideal for our family as the garden was. It was just so different from our old place, and suddenly the leap we’d taken seemed way too big for us to cope with.
‘Shall we explore some more?’ I said, desperately trying to muster up some enthusiasm. The boys jumped at the chance and raced off upstairs. Ben and I followed more sedately. I was keen to get into the studio, but also nervous about what I might find; I was still unsure whether I’d seen someone at the window.
As the boys and Ben discussed which room Oscar wanted and which room would be best for Stan, I took a deep breath and climbed the stairs to the attic.
It was empty – obviously – and it was also perfect. I grimaced a little unfairly at Ben being right about that, too. It was a big room, sloping with the eaves of the house to the front and with two huge windows to the back – the window where I thought I’d seen the figure standing was on the left. It had bare floorboards, painted white. The walls were also white, emulsion over brick, or over the old wallpaper in parts. It was cool and airy.
I wrapped my hands round my mug of tea and wandered to the window. The view was breathtaking and the light was incredible. It seemed to me like an artist’s studio and I wondered if a former resident had painted up here. Surely someone had? I could think of no other use for the room. It wasn’t a bedroom, or a guest room. The staircase to get up to the room was narrow and the door was small. I doubted you’d get a bed up there unless you took it up in pieces and built it in the room.
I looked down at the lawn where I’d sat earlier and glanced round to see if anything in the empty room could have given the appearance of a person. There was nothing.
Perching on the window ledge, as I always did back in London, I examined the studio with a critical eye. It wasn’t threatening or scary. It was just a big, empty room. A big, empty, absolutely lovely room. What I’d said had been right: the figure must have just been a trick of the light. The sunshine was so bright in the garden, it could have reflected off the old glass in the window …
My thoughts trailed off as I realized something. From downstairs, I’d seen two large windows and one small. Up here, there were only two large windows. That was weird.
Putting my empty mug on the windowsill, I went out into the hall. As far as I could tell there was nothing at the far end. No extra room, or door. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. This was a strange place.
Tingling with curiosity – and feeling a little bit unsettled – I went back downstairs to the bedrooms.
Ben and the boys were in the biggest room, which also looked out over the garden. Stan’s face was flushed and Oscar looked cross.
‘Mummy,’ he said as I walked in. ‘I am meant to have this room because I am the biggest but Stan says he has to have it because he wants to watch for pirates on the sea.’ His face crumpled. ‘But I want to look for pirates too.’
‘Bunk beds,’ I said. ‘We’ll get you bunk beds and we can make them look like a ship. Then you can sail off at bedtime and look for pirates together.’
Ben shot me a grateful glance and I smiled at him.
‘I’ve found something funny,’ I said, casually. ‘Can you come and see?’
Ben and the boys followed me up the narrow, rickety stairs to the attic room. We all stood in a line in the middle of the floor, staring out at the sea.
‘Look,’ I said. ‘When I was in the garden, I could see three windows in this room. There were the two big ones, and a little one – remember?’
Ben nodded, realization showing on his face. ‘But up here you can only see two windows,’ he said. ‘That’s mental.’
He went over to one of the windows and pushed up the sash, but it was fixed so it couldn’t open too far. ‘I thought I could lean out and see the other window,’ he said. ‘But I won’t fit my head through that gap.’
‘My head will fit,’ said Oscar.
‘No,’ Ben and I said together.
Oscar looked put out. ‘Maybe the little window is on next door’s house,’ he said.
Ben ruffled his hair. ‘Good idea, pal. But next door isn’t attached to our house. It’s not like in London.’
I was standing still, staring at the windows, feeling a tiny flutter of something in my stomach. Was that excitement?
‘You’re loving this,’ Ben said, looking at my face. ‘One sniff of a mystery and you’re in your element.’
He had a point.
‘Oh come on,’ I said. ‘A missing window? Don’t pretend you’re not interested.’
He smiled at me, not bothering to deny it.
‘Maybe there’s a hidden room,’ I said. ‘Maybe it’s a portal to Narnia.’
‘Or maybe there’s a ventilation brick in these old, thick walls.’
I snorted. ‘Don’t ruin it.’
Ben grinned. ‘I think we’d notice if the house was bigger on the outside than the inside,’ he said.
‘Like the Tardis,’ Oscar shouted in glee. Then he frowned. ‘But the other way round.’
I started to laugh. ‘I don’t think you guys are taking this seriously enough,’ I said, mock stern. ‘This could be something very exciting.’
Ben nodded. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I’ve got this.’
He went over to the wall at the far end of the room and tapped it. Then he tapped it again in a different place, and again and again. I sat down on the floor, with Stan on my lap, and watched.
‘What are you doing?’ I asked eventually.
Ben looked at me in pity. ‘I’m checking to see if the wall sounds hollow,’ he explained. ‘If it sounds hollow then perhaps there’s another room behind here.’
‘Does it sound hollow?’
There was a pause.
‘I don’t know,’ he admitted.
I laughed.
‘Well then we need to compare it to the other walls,’ I said.
And then there was chaos. Stan and Oscar raced around, banging the walls, as Ben and I listened and said, ‘hmm’. We had no idea what we were listening for, but it was fun. The boys shouted, and we laughed, and I thought that maybe everything was going to be okay.
1855
Violet
I almost slipped on the rocks as I struggled down to the beach, even though I’d been that way hundreds of times before. My easel wasn’t heavy, but it was cumbersome, and the bag of paints and brushes I was carrying banged against my legs. Eventually, though, I found my perfect spot. It was warm, but the sun wasn’t too dazzling and I breathed in the sea air deeply.
Working quickly, I set up my easel and pinned my paper down securely. I arranged my paints on the rock behind me, as I’d planned, pushed a stray lock