Grace turned with the others towards Meredith, who had hovered between the kitchen and the dining room all night. She had kept on the outskirts of the conversation, and yet the girls hadn’t noticed. They treated this place as though it belonged to them, and their mother like she was part of the furniture. But Grace had the feeling that Meredith was the glue that held them all invisibly together.
Grace felt a rush of sympathy as the older woman stooped to collect some empty glasses. She got up and went across, determined to make an effort.
‘Can I help you with anything?’
Meredith abruptly straightened. It was as though she had been lost in her own world and Grace was interrupting her. Lamplight bounced off her eyes and made them appear moist, but perhaps it was just a trick of light – after she moved, all Grace could see on Meredith’s face was the emotionless expression she was used to.
‘I’m fine, Grace,’ she said, ‘but thank you for asking.’
‘Mum… Grace…’ came Veronica’s voice from across the room. ‘Steve’s going to do first footing. No reason why we can’t keep up Dad’s tradition. Dad always made a big deal about it,’ she explained to Grace. ‘We had to go outside before twelve, and then follow him back in after midnight.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘In fact, we’d better get on with it.’ She got to her feet and whipped a whisky bottle from the table in the corner, then picked a lump of coal out of the fireplace. ‘Mum, what else do we need?’
‘I’ll get the rest,’ Meredith said, and left the room. Veronica surveyed them all sitting there. ‘Come on, everyone.’
‘What’s all this about?’ Grace asked Liza as they began to haul themselves up.
‘First footing is meant to bring luck to the house. A tall dark man has to enter first after New Year, and bring gifts – whisky for good cheer, coal for warmth, bread for food, salt for flavour, and a coin for prosperity. Mum and Dad did it every year.’
As they made their way towards the door, Claire asked, ‘What about Jack?’
‘Leave him,’ Veronica said. ‘He won’t even notice.’
They filed down the corridor towards the front door and Grace followed them. Outside, Veronica gave Steve the whisky bottle and the coal, and Meredith gave him a loaf of bread and a pot of salt. She looked at the others. ‘We still need a coin.’
Dan held out a coin, his stance, hand on hip, clearly indicating his contempt for the proceedings. Steve juggled the other items in his arms to receive it. Then they gathered around, and Claire looked at her watch and counted down the seconds.
‘Three… two… one… Happy New Year, everyone!’
Grace had expected lots of hugging and kissing, as would have happened in her family, but instead, after a few choruses of ‘Happy New Year’, Dan piped up, ‘All right then, back inside – hurry up, Steve, it’s bloody freezing.’
Steve walked towards the front door, twisted the handle and pushed, but nothing happened.
‘It’s locked,’ he said. He put the items in his arms on the ground, and tried it again, first with one hand and then with both, rattling it.
‘Let me see.’ Meredith sounded annoyed. She shook the handle, but it didn’t budge.
Grace began to shiver. Please get the bloody door open, she prayed.
Then she heard a long, piercing scream.
At first she thought it was one of Jack’s screeching owls, but as it came again, she registered the familiar pitch of it.
‘That’s Millie,’ she shouted, charging towards the door. ‘Get the bloody door open NOW!’
34
Grace barged in front of Meredith, grasped the door handle and shook it hard, but it wouldn’t budge. She looked at it in a panic, mind and heart galloping together.
A hand grasped her arm and she instinctively shook it off. ‘Grace,’ Claire shouted, ‘this way, come on.’
They charged along the side of the house to the back, flinging the door open. Grace raced through the dimly lit kitchen, into the corridor towards the lounge. When she reached the room, she paused in horror.
In the muted light, a shadowy figure stooped over Millie’s pushchair. As he straightened, Grace saw that it was Feathery Jack, and he held Millie in his arms. Millie’s small face was panic-stricken. Grace rushed across and snatched her daughter.
‘What the hell is going on?’ she demanded, fright becoming fury in an instant.
Jack appeared confused as he looked from Grace to Claire. ‘Ah heard the bairn skrikin’,’ he said.
Millie began to cry hysterically and Grace tried to shush her. She whirled around, her only aim to get away from this house, but her escape route was blocked by a crowd of worried faces.
‘What happened?’ Veronica was asking.
‘She must have had a nightmare or something,’ Claire said.
Grace could feel all their eyes fixed on her, burning into her, bringing her close to screaming herself.
‘Poor little mite,’ Liza murmured. ‘Will she be all right, Grace?’
‘She’ll be fine,’ Grace replied through clenched teeth, ‘but I think I’ll take her home.’
She walked across to try to put Millie back in the pushchair, but Millie clung tight and sobbed harder. Grace attempted to soothe her, rocking her gently back and forth.
‘Bit of a bad omen, that, isn’t it, us all sprinting round the back,’ Dan commented. ‘I think you were the last-footer, Steve, not the first,’ he chuckled.
‘Rubbish,’ Meredith said. ‘This’ll be Timmy, up to a bit of mischief, no doubt.’
Grace’s blood ran cold at the idea of a ghost child in here alone with her daughter on the stroke of midnight, while she stood locked outside with this strange family. A spike of fear shot through her. ‘I need to take Millie home,’ she said. ‘Now.’ Her voice came out low and strange. ‘Let me out.’
No one moved, everyone just kept staring, but then Claire’s kind face appeared in front of her. She held Grace’s arms as she said gently, ‘I’ll walk you home.’
‘Can you take the pushchair?’ Grace asked, and then headed towards the door, holding a shrieking Millie tightly to her. Everyone parted to let her through, but no one said a word. She avoided their eyes, making her way quickly outside and onto the road. The cold hit her like a blow as the darkness enveloped her, and she hurried down the hill. The light was on in the pub, and she used that as a guide. They were almost at the cottage when she heard footsteps behind them.
‘Is Millie all right?’ Claire asked breathlessly as she caught up.
Grace had Millie cradled against her, but the little girl had gone quiet now. Grace nodded and didn’t speak further until they were at the cottage gate. ‘Thank you for bringing the pushchair. You can leave it by the porch – I’ll put Millie to bed and then I’ll come back for it.’
She didn’t wait for a response, and hurried upstairs to settle Millie in her cot. The little girl rolled to face the wall without a sound. Grace watched her sleeping for a while, wanting to make sure she was all right, but Millie didn’t move again. By the time Grace headed back downstairs, she was both relieved and exhausted.
She went to collect the pushchair, to discover that Claire was still hovering in the garden.
‘I wanted to check you were both okay.’
‘Really, we’re fine,’ Grace replied wearily.
‘Are you sure?’
Grace took in Claire’s earnest face. This woman was a Blakeney – and she wanted little more to do with them after tonight. But Claire had always seemed different, and Grace felt a sudden need for company, so she found herself saying, ‘You’re welcome to stay for a drink if you like. Then I have to get to bed.’
Claire followed her into the lounge.
‘Tea or something stronger?’
‘Tea is fine.’
Grace made the drinks, then they sat down. Claire fiddled with the handle of her mug for a while before she looked up. ‘I feel I should apologise for my family…’