Tanith Lee by Yellow & Red

Author:Yellow & Red [Yellow & Red]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-12-12T02:16:51+00:00

11th September: 6:00 p.m.

The walk down to the village, just under a mile and a half, took me longer than it should have. I arrived feeling quite done up, and went into the little pub, which had some quaint name I forget, and had a brandy and soda.

Across the green was the vicarage, a picturesque building of grey stone, and behind it the Norman church, probably of interest to those with an historical concern. When I got to the vicarage door, and knocked, a homely fat woman came and let me in, all smiles, to the vicar’s den. It was a nice, masculine place, redolent of pipe smoke, with a big dog lying on the hearth, who wagged his tail at me politely.

The Reverend Dale greeted me, and called for tea, which the fat nymph presently brought with a plate of her own shortbread. This tasted very good, although I am afraid I could eat no more than a bite.

The vicar let me settle myself, and we talked about ordinary things, the autumn, elements of the country round about, and of London. At last, leaning forward, the old man peered at me through his glasses.

“Are you quite well, Mr Martyce?”

“Perfectly. Just a trifle tired. I haven’t slept well at the house.”

He looked long at me and said, “I’m afraid people often don’t.”

I took a deep breath. “In what way?” I asked.

“Your family, Mr Martyce, has been inclined to insomnia there. The domestics have never complained. Indeed, I never heard a servant from there that had anything but praise for the house and the family. Mrs Allen, the former cook, retired only when she was seventy-six and could no longer manage. She was loath to go.”

“But my family—there has been a deal of illness.”

“Yes, I’m afraid that is so. Your Grandfather—he was before my time, of course. And his wife. Your father was long from home, and his brother, Mr William, was sent out into the world at twenty… before there was any—problem at the house. The two brothers did not at first choose to come back. And your father, I think, not at all. He lived to a good age?”

“He was nearly eighty. There was quite a gap between him and William—my Grandfather’s travels.”

“Eighty—yes, that’s splendid. But poor William did not do so well. He was, as you know, only sixty-two when he succumbed. His wife was a mere fifty, and your Aunt in her forties. But, in later life, she had never been well.”

I tried a laugh. It sounded hollow. “That house doesn’t seem very healthy for the Martyces.”

Reverend Dale looked grave. “It does not.”

“And what explanation do you have for that, sir?”

“I fear that, although I am a man of God, and might be expected to incline to esoteric conclusions, I have none.”

I said, flatly, “Do you think there is a malevolent ghost?”

“I am not supposed to believe in ghosts,” said the Reverend Dale. “However, I can’t quite rid myself of a belief in—influences.”

A cold tremor passed up my back.

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