Laura Possessed (6 page)

He glanced at her bewildered face and gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘Sorry, it's the schoolmaster coming out!'

She said slowly, ‘It's a fascinating thought, but why don't people
realize
they've been dreaming about the future?'

‘Because—and this is the crux of the whole thing—ninety-nine per cent of dreams are completely forgotten within minutes of waking. That was why Dunne insisted they had to be written down immediately. Just occasionally something happens which reminds us of what we've already dreamt, and we say it's “broken the dream”. You see, Dunne's point was that so-called precognition and clairvoyance are not the gifts of a selected few but are within the scope of anyone who
cares
to exercise them.'

‘Well, I for one don't!' Laura declared roundly, ‘but perhaps I haven't any option.'

‘Obviously some people are more sensitive to atmosphere than others—it would be easier for them. You said just now that you dreamt about Lewis Castleton the day you arrived at Four Winds. Wasn't that about the time you saw the nonexistent trees?'

She looked at him quickly. ‘Yes, it was. The two things probably happened within an hour of each other.'

‘It could almost be a case of telepathy, then. You'd somehow “tuned in” to Castleton's mind. He could easily have been thinking about the house and garden—after all, we know Caroline had already mentioned the possibility of his going to dinner.'

‘And—the other?'

‘Perhaps another episode in his past. Did you actually figure in the dream yourself?'

She hesitated for a moment. ‘Now that's very interesting. I'd forgotten that part. It
felt
like me, but he called me something else. After all, if it was something out of his past, it couldn't have been I, could it?'

‘What did he call you?'

‘I'm trying to remember. A rather unusual name—Noel! That was it.'

‘I suppose you've never known anyone by that name?'

‘No. The interesting question is, has Lewis
Castleton?
Paul, do you think there
could
be a connection between my dreaming about him and the fact that he once lived at Four Winds?'

‘It's possible, though I don't quite see how, unless houses have “memory banks” like computers! Is there anything about the house itself that disturbs you?'

A tremor ran through her and he turned the car off the road and drew to a halt. ‘What is it, Laura?'

‘More of my infernal psychic powers, I suppose,' she answered with a touch of bitterness, but he noted that she had gone pale.

‘Hadn't you better tell me?'

‘There's not much to tell. It's just that all the time I'm in the house I'm strongly conscious of a feeling of despair—a cold, desperate unhappiness. Nobody else seems to notice it.'

He smiled crookedly. ‘You don't go in for half-measures, do you? All we need now is “things that go bump in the night”!' He laid a hand over hers. ‘Have you told anyone else?'

She shook her head. ‘It's not a thing you want to advertise.'

‘I think perhaps you should. This—unhappy feeling. If it's really strong, it might be a case for exorcism.'

She recoiled violently. ‘No!'

‘Laura, it's not healthy for you to be surrounded by all this when you don't want to
be.
Let me have a word with Edward—'

‘No!' she said again. ‘Don't you see, they wouldn't believe it, and who could blame them? They've noticed nothing themselves. They'd just think I needed a course of psychiatric treatment or something, and I've had enough of hospitals to last me a long time. And that reminds me. Dr. Banstead gave me a note to take to Edward's doctor and I haven't yet.'

‘Then will you tell him what you've told me?'

‘Certainly not! He'd have me committed!'

‘Don't talk like that!' Paul said sharply.

She turned to face him. ‘Paul, you've got to promise me not to repeat anything that I've told you.'

‘But I—'

‘Promise!' she repeated.

‘All right,' he said reluctantly, ‘if you feel you can cope.'

‘I shall have to, shan't I?'

‘You've never had any of these kinds of experiences before?'

‘Not before I came here, no. Perhaps my weakness after the accident has made me susceptible, I don't know.'

‘Well, will you promise me that if it gets out of hand at any time you'll let me know?'

‘What could you do?'

‘Talk some sense into you, perhaps, and make you see the doctor.'

She
said quietly, ‘Is there a prescription to banish ghosts? I've just thought your Everlasting Now would help to explain them, wouldn't it? They've just strayed over their own time barrier.'

‘It would probably explain a lot of things.' He looked at her anxiously. ‘Had I better take you home now? You're looking rather tired.'

‘Yes, I'm probably missing my rest. I've enjoyed the drive, though. Thank you for asking me.'

‘I hope you'll come again,' he said formally.

They turned in a wide arc and started back in the direction of Brocklehurst, both of them busy with their own thoughts. A few minutes later Paul turned in between the wrought-iron gates and Laura subconsciously braced herself. The brief respite was over and Four Winds was waiting to claim her again.

CHAPTER FOUR

Laura's talk with Paul Denver had hardly reassured her, and returning to a household still shattered by Clive Sandilands' murder in no way helped to restore the balance. During the remainder of that week, the police were in touch with them several times. The post-mortem had revealed nothing new; Clive Sandilands had been in reasonably good
health
for a man of his age, though his heart was slightly enlarged. Death, due to a knife blade penetrating the cardial cavity, had been instantaneous. There was a bleak comfort in that.

Laura duly presented herself at Edward's doctor's surgery and handed over the letter from Dr. Banstead, which he read carefully. Dr. MacIntyre was a tall, quietly spoken Scot with a receding hairline and compassionate brown eyes.

‘And how are you feeling just now, Miss Hardy? Are the headaches any less frequent?'

She hesitated. ‘Yes, they are. In fact, I don't think I've had one since I came to Brocklehurst ten days ago.'

‘Well, that's very good news. You still seem a trifle tense, though. Is anything else worrying you?'

‘Not really, Doctor.'

‘I heard of your brother's friend's death, of course. That must have been an added shock for you.'

‘Yes.'

‘You're sleeping well?'

‘Quite well.' She smiled a little. ‘I'm afraid, Doctor, that like the rest of my family I have rather more than my share of imagination. It can be a curse as well as a blessing!'

He smiled back. ‘I'd rather not prescribe sedatives or tranquilizers unless you really need them, but if you do, please don't hesitate
to
call me. In the meantime, I'll drop in to have a look at you occasionally when I'm passing, to satisfy myself you're making satisfactory progress.'

She nodded and stood up. ‘Thank you.' For an instant more she hesitated, tempted after all to tell him something of her fears, but he had already pressed the bell for the next patient and her chance had gone.

The funeral took place that Saturday. Edward insisted it was unnecessary for either Laura or Caroline to go, and they were secretly relieved by his decision. He returned from it impressed afresh with Fenella Gray's calm courage. She had delayed her return to the States by one week in order to attend the inquest the following Monday, and was hoping to leave on the Saturday after that. In the meantime, she had again politely refused his invitation to come to Four Winds.

With their lives so bound up in Clive Sandilands' tragedy, Laura had completely forgotten that Lewis Castleton was invited to dinner that Friday. Obviously, though, Caroline had not. On Thursday morning Laura looked into the kitchen to find her busily engaged in making pastry. Since Mrs. Baines did most of the cooking, this was unusual enough to cause comment.

‘I'm preparing the first course for tomorrow,' Caroline replied.

‘Tomorrow?'

She
turned, pushing her hair back with her forearm since her hands were covered with flour. ‘Lewis is coming. Had you forgotten?'

‘Oh, of course! Yes, I had, actually.' She paused. ‘It doesn't seem quite right, somehow, to be having a dinner party when—'

‘You mean we should observe a period of court mourning?' Caroline asked sharply. ‘Clive would be the last person to want that. Anyway, it's hardly a party—only Lewis.'

Laura watched her as she turned back to the pastry board. Lewis Castleton was returning to Four Winds, she told herself deliberately, and waited for the expected tide of apprehension and distaste. Surprisingly, it did not come. In fact—she found it hard to accept—she was aware of a feeling of pleased expectancy. No doubt it was merely the anticipation of an evening which would not be spent gloomily going over the funeral or the inquest.

The following evening as she was changing for dinner, she was suddenly aware of someone watching her and turned sharply, surprised to see that the intruder was a small boy, staring at her with large blue-grey eyes.

‘Hello!' she said, startled. ‘Are you one of Peter's friends?'

The child didn't answer. He seemed puzzled by her presence. After a moment, swinging on the door handle, he said confidentially, ‘Grandma's dead. I've just been in to have a look at her.'

Laura
stared at him, uneasiness beginning to prickle her scalp. ‘You must be mistaken,' she said at last. ‘Your grandmother doesn't live here.'

‘Of course she doesn't
live
here—she's dead!' His matter-of-factness and complete absence of grief struck Laura as callous and unchildlike. She said a little more sharply, ‘What's your name?'

He stared at her for a moment frowningly and then, either bored by the conversation or resentful of her tone, slipped out of the room, and after a moment, rather disconcerted, she went on brushing her hair.

Lewis Castleton had arrived by the time she went down. He and Caroline were standing close together as she opened the sitting-room door and they moved swiftly apart.

‘Oh, there you are, Laura,' Caroline said a little breathlessly. ‘Edward's just gone for some ice. Did you—?' She broke off as Edward himself came in with the ice bowl.

‘Do sit down, Lewis. Now, gin and tonic, wasn't it?'

‘Thank you. I was just saying how attractive you've made this room. I remember it as rather dark and forbidding, with a Victorian horsehair sofa, of all things!'

‘We'll show you round later. How's the decorating going?'

‘I'm beginning to see the light at last!' He leant back in the easy chair, crossing his legs.
Once
again he was dressed formally and Laura felt that the conventional collar and tie irked him. ‘Didn't know the place had so many windows, though! I'll have to forage around to find some curtains. I've no wish to live in a goldfish bowl!'

‘I doubt if you'd get many people going past, though,' Edward remarked. ‘It's a bit of a dead-end down there, isn't it?'

Caroline said eagerly, ‘As a matter of fact I've a lot of material left over from the curtains I made for this house. I hadn't realized the fabrics were sixty inches wide. If you let me know your window measurements, I'll run several pairs up for you.'

‘Oh, look, I really couldn't—'

‘But why not? Provided the colours fit in with your decor—'

Lewis Castleton laughed briefly: ‘Decor? Rather a grand name for emulsion paint!'

‘Then there's no problem.'

‘But I can't take up your time—'

‘I'm a lady of leisure, Lewis,' Caroline retorted gaily, ‘and my time's my own! I'm delighted to think the material won't be wasted after all.'

Laura dragged her eyes away from the two of them to accept the glass Edward handed her. Was he aware of this growing attraction between them? she wondered. If so, he certainly gave no sign of it. She wished there were some way of warning him without saying
too
much.

‘You have a son of fifteen?' Lewis was repeating. ‘I don't believe it.'

Caroline flushed prettily. ‘True, I assure you. And a daughter of thirteen.'

‘Really, Edward, I didn't know you'd been guilty of cradle-snatching!'

‘I was married just before my twentieth birthday,' Caroline admitted. ‘Even the baby's nine now. It makes me feel ancient!' Her low laugh intimated that it made her feel no such thing.

‘Better not let him hear you refer to him as “the baby''!' Edward commented. ‘By the way, where is he?'

‘At Cubs—it's Friday, remember. If you go and collect him at eight, we can eat as soon as you get back.'

Laura stirred. ‘Peter's not home? Then why was that other little boy here?'

‘What other little boy?'

‘The one who came to my room while I was dressing. I assumed he'd come back with Peter.'

Caroline said impatiently, ‘I don't know what you're talking about. There's been no child here this evening.'

‘If Peter's to be picked up at eight, I'd better go now.' Edward drained his glass and put it on the cabinet. ‘Shan't be long.'

He went out of the room and Lewis and Caroline resumed their conversation—about,
Laura
discovered when she bothered to listen, furniture, curtains, the advantages and otherwise of living in a village. Obviously her reference to the boy upstairs had been dismissed out of hand, but her mind continued to circle round the incident. Possibly he was someone connected with Mrs. Baines who had called at the house without Caroline being aware of it. But his remark about his grandmother—She was glad enough to have the riddle to puzzle over, since it meant she could shut herself away from the low voices across the room.