The Shadows of Rutherford House by CE Rose

Author:CE Rose
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hera
Published: 2022-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 46

1988

Duncan

Duncan sits at the kitchen table and spoons cornflakes into his mouth. He usually has something more substantial to start the day, but he just can’t get himself going either mentally or physically this week. Perhaps it’s the after-effect of the ‘spiking’ on Saturday night, or maybe it’s because he’s confused. Yes, lady bloody muck. Imogen Percy. Imo. For whatever reason, he can’t stop thinking about her, his mind roaming a whole spectrum between annoyance, indignation, danger, flattery and desire. And it’s the last he ends on before falling asleep. It’s still bloody there when he wakes, so he rushes to the shower to relieve himself. He imagines her ‘helping hand’ and he comes within seconds.

When they arrived back at the stables on Sunday, she’d changed again, retreating into the snooty girl with the impenetrable gaze. She wrapped her hair into a tight bun and held out her hand. ‘Thank you for the sandwiches,’ she said crisply. ‘And for the loan of the shirt. I’ll arrange for it to be laundered and returned to you.’

She hasn’t brought it back. Though he’s scanned every garden, every meadow, every field as he’s passed, there hasn’t been any sign of her. And why would there be? It’s not as though he regularly saw her in the grounds anyway. She’ll be ensconced in the big house, and he hasn’t gone anywhere near it as yet; the need hasn’t arisen.

‘Will he have to go into Rutherford?’ his mum demanded when his dad was still wired up in his hospital bed.

‘Mum! Dad’s in pain. He doesn’t need to worry about that stuff yet.’

‘Well, you’re not to, son. Do you hear me?’ she added with a set jaw. ‘They can come to you.’

Connie always did have a thing about the big house, and after Freddie’s death, he got it. He still felt dreadfully guilty, of course, but as he stood in the domed hallway for the wake, he sensed movement, even sound from the landing above. When he looked up, only dark shadows lurked behind the wooden balustrades, yet it gave him the spooks, and he was mightily relieved when his mum took his palm and tightly squeezed it. He’d usually be embarrassed by her public display of affection, but that day he was glad of it.

He now stretches and sighs. Today he’s missing a hand of reassurance, Jana’s in particular. Though it’s Friday, there hasn’t been a postcard this week yet, nor the phone call she promised. He knows it’s expensive all the way from Bangkok and would last all of two minutes, but he’d like to hear her voice. It’s bloody lonely in this house with only the TV or his cassette tapes to keep him company every night. His confidence in her love for him is slipping a little more each day; he needs her to tell him they’re still a team.

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