The Retreat(59)

Julia stepped into the doorway and shone her light inside. Ursula sat in an armchair, apparently frozen to the spot, holding a glass of wine.

‘Where’s Suzi now?’ I asked.

‘She disappeared. I think she was embarrassed. She’s gone to her room. Do you think it’s a local power cut? Does that happen a lot round here?’

‘Not since I’ve lived here,’ Julia replied.

‘It might be the fuses,’ I said. ‘It probably just needs resetting. Where’s the box?’

‘In the utility room.’

We left Max waiting by the Thomas Room and went through the kitchen to the little room where Julia kept her washing machine and dryer. She shone the flashlight at the fuse box, which was on the wall by the back door. I opened it.

‘It’s not the switches,’ I said. ‘It must be a power cut. Have you got any candles?’

‘I think so. Hang on . . .’ We went back into the kitchen.

If this had happened in my flat in London, we would have been fine. Priya had been obsessed with scented candles and most of them were still around. Sometimes I lit them to remind myself of her, if I was feeling strong enough. The smell of jasmine or cinnamon would always remind me of her. But Julia wasn’t into candles. The only candles I’d seen since coming here were the ones on Lily’s birthday cake.

She searched through the kitchen drawers. Loads of junk, but no candles.

‘I think they’re in the cottage,’ she said.

Max had come into the kitchen, holding his phone, the flashlight switched on.

‘I’ll go and fetch them,’ I said.

‘I’ll come too,’ said Max.

‘There’s no need.’

But he was already heading out the back door. Julia handed me the key to the cottage and I went after him.

It was cold outside, and overcast, a few stars peeking through the gaps between the clouds. We only had Max’s phone to illuminate the way, but as we moved towards the cottage my eyes started to grow accustomed to the darkness. Black shapes against a grey backdrop.

Max stopped walking.

‘What are you doing?’ I asked.

‘I actually wanted a chance to talk to you,’ he said. ‘Listen, Lucas, I swear I didn’t take your pen on purpose. I actually have no recollection of picking it up but, you know, we’d all had a drink.’

I could hardly see his face, but he sounded sincere and my emotions were reverberating from the encounter with Julia. I really didn’t want another argument. ‘It’s okay,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry about earlier. I’d had a difficult day.’

‘I apologise too for what I said. I know it’s no excuse but I’ve been under a lot of stress too. Some marital issues, which is why I’m staying here a little longer. My wife doesn’t want me to go home.’

I nodded.

‘I didn’t sleep with Suzi, though, whatever you think. I’m guilty of many things, but not that.’ Again, he sounded sincere.

‘I’m sorry if it seemed like I was judging you.’

He laughed. ‘I hope no one overhears. They might think we’re bonding.’

‘Heaven forbid. Come on, we should try to find these candles.’

We headed over to the cottage and I opened the door. Max led the way, going into the kitchen first. I began to look through drawers while Max held the flashlight.

‘The power will probably come back on the moment we find them,’ he said.

There were no candles in the first drawer, or the second, though I found a cigarette lighter which I pocketed, thinking it would come in handy.

‘You know, I kind of wish I wrote horror like you,’ Max said. ‘Or ghost stories, anyway. Think of all the inspiration I’d have had since coming here. Your creative synapses must be on fire.’

He didn’t know the half of it. I was tempted to fill him in, but then he said, ‘Something weird happened to me the other night.’

I paused halfway through searching the drawer. ‘What?’

‘Well, I got up in the middle of the night to go to the loo, and heard someone singing.’

I waited.

‘It was a woman. At first I thought it must be Julia, but it didn’t sound like it was coming from her bedroom. It sounded like someone was inside the room with me.’

‘Was it this song?’ I sang a couple of lines of ‘Un, dau, tri . . .’

‘Yes, that was it!’

‘I’ve heard it too,’ I said. ‘So did Karen. It was one of Lily’s favourite songs, apparently.’

Max puffed out air. ‘That matches what Ursula said . . . You don’t believe in ghosts, do you? Even though you write horror?’

‘No. I don’t.’

I knew we ought to head back to the house, or look elsewhere in the cottage for candles. But Max seemed keen to talk. ‘Me neither. Except . . .’

‘What?’

‘Talking to Ursula, it makes me wonder.’

‘Oh, don’t you start. She’s making it all up.’

He leaned against the worktop, looking out at the night. The clouds had cleared a little, revealing more stars, silvery light glimmering across the lawn, with trees and shrubbery emerging from the darkness.

‘She’s very convincing,’ he said. ‘I told her about the singing I heard and she said it could be Lily’s ghost, trapped here in this house, unwilling to move on to the next realm because of her mother’s unhappiness. Ursula’s going to consult her spirit guide. She said . . . Hang on, what was that?’