Amy hastily shoved her feet into her Dr Martens boots, wondering if accosting intruders was in the job description for a lady’s companion. Whether it was or not, she felt compelled to find out who the little blonde-haired girl in the blue coat really was.
She left the bedroom with its strange adjacent nursery, walked quickly along the long portrait-lined corridor then hurried down the wide oak staircase, taking the steps two at a time.
Pulling open the front door she was just in time to see the man and the little girl disappearing around the side of the house.
‘Hello!’ she called out, her breath visible on the chilly morning air. ‘Can I help you?’
The man stopped and turned around. Amy saw him look her up and down and felt suddenly aware that she was still wearing her pyjamas under her old jumper, and that her unbrushed pink curls were probably sticking out in all directions.
‘Who are you?’ he said. His expression held a trace of amusement.
Amy tried to smooth her unruly hair.
‘I’m the new lady’s companion for Miss Barnard.’
The man laughed. ‘Good luck with that!’
‘What’s a lady’s companion?’ the little girl asked, looking up at the man.
‘Someone sent to make sure Millicent behaves herself.’ He laughed again.
‘And who are you?’ Amy made her best attempt to look authoritative.
‘I’m Dr Andrew Medway. Millicent’s GP.’ He held out a hand. ‘Millicent phoned me early this morning. We live in the bungalow up the road, so my daughter Kitty and I popped in to see her before we do the school run.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Amy shook his hand briefly. His grip was firm. ‘Is everything alright?’
‘Everything is quite alright.’ Millicent appeared at the doorway, in layers of black and the bright red scarf. ‘I had palpitations in the night so I phoned Dr Medway for advice, because that’s how capable I am of looking after myself.’ She glared at Amy. ‘When I need help I ask for it, I do not need a babysitter.’
‘That’s you told.’ The doctor’s eyes twinkled at Amy. He turned to Millicent. ‘If you have the sample I’ll come and give it a quick check.’
‘Can I stay out here?’ The little girl was tugging at his jacket.
‘No Kitty, not on your own.’
‘I’ll stay with you,’ Amy said.
‘Splendid!’ Millicent clapped her hands. ‘Your babysitting services can be put to proper use.’
Amy gave a heavy sigh as the doctor and Millicent disappeared inside. ‘She’s a bit bossy,’ Kitty said.
Amy grinned down at her. ‘When you’re as old as she is I think it’s allowed.’
Kitty wasn’t wearing the coat with the velvet collar and cuffs she had been wearing the day before. Instead she had a blue raincoat on, with a picture of a rabbit on one of the pockets and an owl on the other.
‘Have you had a haircut?’ Amy asked, noticing her blonde hair was now cut into an uneven bob rather than the long ringlets of the day before.
‘My dad cut it.’ The little girl made a face. ‘He’s not very good. I wish my hair was pink like yours, and I wish I had lots of earrings.’ She pointed to the multiple piercings Amy had in each ear. ‘And a ring in my nose.’
‘Maybe when you’re older.’ Amy smiled.
‘No.’ Kitty shook her head sadly. ‘Dad’s been very strict since my mum died.’
Amy’s face fell, but before she could say anything Kitty took off, running through the early morning mist towards the lake.
‘Catch me! Catch me!’ she called excitedly over her shoulder.
Amy laughed. She hadn’t been expecting her first morning at Myrtle Court to start with an energetic game, especially while she was still in her pyjamas. She started to run, her long legs meant she easily caught up with the child, though Amy let her believe she was just out of her reach. They ran over grass that crunched with frost, around the decaying reeds that lined the misty lake, then past a dilapidated jetty and a boathouse with an ancient wooden rowing boat moored inside.
Kitty headed towards a copse of trees and Amy followed, her breath coming in short gasps, her pace slowing – she wasn’t as fit as she thought he was. The little girl really was ahead of her now, zig-zagging through the spindly tree trunks. A flock of crows rose into the air from branches that were already bare. Amy stumbled on a gnarled root and fell onto the carpet of brittle autumnal leaves. She picked herself up, brushing mulch from her jumper and pyjama bottoms. There was something just beside her boot. A dead crow. It lay with its oily wings outstretched, its beak open, one dull eye staring up at her. Amy shuddered and stepped away, turning a full circle to try to spot Kitty. But she couldn’t see her anywhere.
Hearing laughter behind her she started to run back the way they had come towards the lake.
With horror she saw the wooden rowing boat was on the water, several metres from the shore. The little girl was struggling with the oars. ‘Kitty!’ Amy shouted as loudly as she could, and started to run towards the shoreline, her eyes firmly fixed on the girl’s blonde hair and blue coat. The mist was getting thicker and the boat was slipping further into the middle of the misty lake, as though pulled by a strong force.
‘I’ll get help,’ Amy shouted, though she doubted the child could hear her. The boat was almost completely obscured by mist.
Running around the lake to get back on the path to the house, she saw the rowing boat still moored in the boathouse. Puzzled, she turned back to scan the water. The mist was lifting, revealing the long, dark slab of water.
It was as black as the feathers of the dead crow and as smooth as treacle – not even a ripple broke the surface. There was nothing there: no boat, no blondehaired girl in a blue coat, only the log she had seen earlier, its branches still reaching up towards the sky.
Suddenly a scream filled the air. It was coming from the house. Amy picked up her pace and raced towards the huge half-timbered building. With great relief she saw Kitty, not in the boat, but standing beside the steps to the front door. The little girl was staring down at something on the gravel, her hands at her face and her expression full of terror.
As Amy reached her she saw the twisted body of the porcelain doll she had seen upstairs, its head smashed into many pieces.
Amy looked up and saw that the window of the nursery, which she had closed earlier, was now open again. One white lace curtain billowed like a bridal veil, and even from below Amy could hear the rocking horse creaking back and forth, back and forth.
‘What on earth is going on?’ The doctor was hurrying down the steps from the front door, Millicent following breathlessly behind.
‘It’s just an old doll.’ Amy bent to pick up the pieces of the shattered face. ‘I saw it up in the nursery earlier.’
‘How dare you!’ Millicent’s voice shook with rage. She looked up at the open window then glared at Amy. ‘You’ve been snooping around, going into rooms you shouldn’t have. Rooms that have been locked for decades.’
‘No, the door was open,’ said Amy.
But Millicent was no longer listening. Her face had turned a sickly grey and her veined hands were clutching at her chest. The doctor put one arm around her, guiding her inside and telling Kitty to dial 999 from the phone in the hall.
Amy was left outside with the broken body of the doll. One glass eye stared up at her. It glinted in the first rays of the morning sun as it broke through the mist.
After the ambulance had left the house was deathly quiet. Amy went upstairs to get dressed. An icy breeze blew through the bedroom, coming from the nursery. Amy went through the open door and pulled the window firmly shut. She wondered how the doll could possibly have fallen when she had left it sitting on the armchair.
There was sharp rap as something fell to the floor behind her, and when Amy turned she saw a black wax crayon rolling across the floor towards her. She picked it up and put it back on the table. Looking at the exercise book she noticed that the open pages were now covered in a mass of scribbles. The red letters that had spelled out the name Nora were now almost invisible beneath heavy black crayon marks.
As Amy stared at the book she heard creaking. The rocking horse was moving rhythmically back and forth again. Amy rushed from the room as quickly as she could, slamming the door behind her.
Without stopping to get dressed Amy threw her clothes into her suitcase and retrieved her car keys from her handbag, in preparation for getting away as quickly as possible. As she hurried down the corridor the family portraits seemed to be staring at her, mocking her with sour expressions as she ran towards the staircase, dragging her suitcase and rumpling up the Persian rugs as she went.
Downstairs she stopped. The hallway was filled with sunlight streaming through the windows, and a stained-glass panel made a multi-coloured pattern on the flagstones. Amy could hear Radio 4 coming from the kitchen, where Millicent must have turned on the radio earlier that morning. The soundtrack to Desert Island Discs was reassuringly familiar, followed by the presenter’s soothing voice.
Amy took a deep breath. Surely there was nothing to be scared of? There must be a rational explanation for everything that had happened? As she put down her bags she wondered if the break-up with Ben had affected her mental state more than she had realised.
She decided she should at least do the washing up before she left Myrtle Court. Who knew how long Millicent would be in hospital?
In the kitchen dirty dishes teetered in towers on the draining board. Amy set to work, humming along to a song on the radio as she plunged plates and cups into soapy water. She wondered if she really needed to leave. The thought of going back to London filled her with dismay, and someone would have to look after Millicent when she came home from hospital.
The guest on Desert Island Discs chose a classic love song, one of Amy’s favourites. The handsome face of the doctor sprang into her mind. She remembered the way his eyes had twinkled at her, and found that she was smiling.
She wiped her hands on a tea towel and went out to the woodshed to get more logs for the fire. The job was much less arduous in the bright autumnal sunshine than it had been in the damp darkness of the night before.
As Amy finished piling the logs beside the fire she saw a mug on the desk beside Millicent’s typewriter. ‘Damn,’ she muttered – she thought she had finished washing up. As she picked it up she noticed the sheet of paper in the typewriter.
Amy peered down at it, intrigued to see if it was a new Leonora Loveday story in the process of being written. But it didn’t seem to be a story, it was a letter. Amy started to look away – a letter was too personal for her to read – but the name at the top was familiar.
Drawing in a breath her heart began to beat a little faster. She sat down on Millicent’s high-backed chair to get a better look. The text was very faint, as though the typewriter ribbon needed to be changed. Amy moved closer, straining her eyes as she started to read...
‘My Dearest Nora,
I know you are waiting. You have been waiting for nearly 80 years now. I am so sorry I didn’t come that day. I promised you we would go out on the lake. I will never forgive myself for getting so distracted by that handsome soldier friend of John’s. I thought I was in love. Of course, I was not. I knew that as soon as they found the upturned rowing boat and your poor body in the reeds.
‘I have stayed at Myrtle Court to be with you, to keep you company. I wrote you stories – I created a whole world of adventures for Leonora Loveday. Do you remember your nickname? I called you Loveday because you did seem to love every day, and even though you were younger than me and only a halfsister, you filled my days with joy.
‘They tell me my stories have given many children happiness, but I wrote every one of them with an ache in my heart. I think that is what has kept my heart so strong for so long – it is my punishment for what happened to you. ‘I feel you very close now. Sometimes I think I see you out on the lake in the boat. Sometimes I hear you on your rocking horse – how you loved that present from father. I know you are still cross with me but I will come and be with you soon. This is a promise I will keep...’
The letter ended, as though Millicent had been distracted or simply run out of things to say. As Amy read it again the phone began to ring in the hall, the noise echoing through the quiet house. Amy was aware that the radio wasn’t playing any more, though she hadn’t turned it off. She walked through and picked up the receiver.
‘I’m just phoning to give you an update on Millicent.’ Amy recognised the doctor’s voice. ‘It’s not good news. I’m afraid her condition is critical.’
The conversation was brief. As Amy put down the phone the hall darkened. Rain began to beat against the windows and a wind whistled under the ancient front door.
Amy heard laughter from outside, a child’s voice. ‘Catch me! Catch me!’
She opened the front door, but there was no one to be seen. From the steps she looked out across the lake. At first she could see nothing but the oily surface rippling in the wind, but then she saw it – the boat gliding over the dark water. A blonde-haired girl was sitting in the stern and someone else was sat opposite her, pulling at the oars. Amy squinted through the driving rain. She saw black clothes, the flash of a red scarf, close-cropped silver hair.
‘Millicent!’ Amy cried out hopelessly as the mist gathered in the centre of the lake, a thick and swirling mass of grey. In seconds the boat had vanished into it, the mist completely obscuring Millicent and Nora from view. The rain stopped as quickly as it had started, the wind died down and Amy heard the phone ring again.
