House of Echoes

‘Your mother, Laura Catherine Duncan died on 15th February 1989. She moved to France from Belheddon Hall in Essex in the spring of 1984 and since then the house has remained empty. Her husband, your father, Philip Duncan, died in November 1963, his mother, who lived in the village of Belheddon, died three years ago and the two sons of Laura and Philip, your brothers, died in 1953 and 1962 respectively. I am afraid to my knowledge there is no close family extant.’

Joss bit her lip. Dragging her eyes away from his face she stared down into her cup.

‘Your mother left two letters for you,’ Cornish went on. ‘One, I understand, was written at the time of your adoption. The other was entrusted to me before she left the country. It had some rather strange conditions attached to it.’

‘Conditions?’ Joss cleared her throat nervously.

He smiled. ‘I was instructed to give it to you only if you appeared within seven years of her death. I was not to seek you out in any way. It had to be your decision to look for your roots.’

‘And if I hadn’t contacted you?’

‘Then you would not have inherited Belheddon Hall.’

Joss’s mouth fell open. ‘What did you say?’ Her hands had started to shake.

He smiled at her, clearly delighted at the effect of his words. ‘The house and its grounds which I believe extend to about ten acres, are yours, my dear. It has been waiting for you. I understand a lot of the contents are still there as well, although some things were sold before Laura left England.’

‘What would have happened to it if I hadn’t contacted you?’ Stunned, Joss frowned. She was still trying to make sense of his words.

‘Then the house was to be sold at auction with its contents and the proceeds were to go to charity.’ He paused. ‘My dear, I should warn you that although enough provision was made for the payment of any inheritance taxes there is no money to go with the bequest. It is possible that you have been left an appallingly large white elephant, and there are conditions and covenants attached to the bequest. You may not turn it down, even though of course you cannot be forced to live there, and, you may not sell the property for a period of seven years starting from the first day you set foot inside the house.’ He turned to the file before him and stood up. ‘I shall give you her letters and leave you alone for a moment while you read them.’ He handed her two envelopes with a smile. ‘I shall be in my secretary’s office if you need me.’

She sat looking down at the two envelopes for several minutes without moving. One was addressed: To my daughter, Lydia. The other had her name – the name she had taken from her step parents, Jocelyn Davies – and the date April 1984.

She picked up the one addressed to Lydia and slowly ran her finger under the flap.

The single page was embossed with the address: Belheddon Hall, Belheddon, Essex.

My darling Lydia, One day, I hope you will understand why I have done as I have done. I had no choice. I love you. I shall always love you. Please God you will be happy and safe with your new mother and father. My blessings go with you, my darling baby. God bless you always.

There was no signature. Joss felt her eyes flood with tears. She sniffed frantically, dropping the letter onto the desk. It was several seconds before she tore open the second envelope. It too was headed Belheddon Hall. This letter was longer.

My dearest Jocelyn. I am not supposed to know your name but there are people who find out these things and once in a while I have had news of you. I hope you have been happy. I have been so proud of you, my darling. Forgive me, Jocelyn, but I can no longer fight your father’s wishes, I have no strength left. I am leaving Belheddon with all its blessings and its curses, but he will only let me escape if I give in. He wants Belheddon to be yours and I have to obey. If you read this letter, he will have got his way. God bless you, Jocelyn, and keep you safe.

Laura Duncan.

Joss read the letter again, puzzled. So, it was her father’s wish that she inherit the house. She thought of the lone grave beneath the oak tree and shook her head slowly.

It was five minutes later that John Cornish put his head around the door. ‘All right?’

She nodded numbly. ‘I’m finding it hard to assimilate all this.’

He resumed his chair and gave her a kind smile. ‘I can imagine.’

‘What happens now?’

He shrugged eloquently. ‘I give you a box of keys and you go away and, as our American cousins say, enjoy.’

‘And that is all?’

‘Bar a few small formalities – papers to sign and so forth – that is all.’

She hesitated. ‘My husband’s engineering company has just folded. He’s been swindled by his partner. There is a chance he is going to be made bankrupt. We’ve lost our house – I won’t lose Belheddon?’

He shook his head. ‘I’m so sorry. But this house is yours, not your husband’s. Unless you yourself are being made bankrupt, it is safe.’

‘And we could go and live there?’

He laughed. ‘Indeed you can. Though you should remember it has been closed up a long time. I have no idea what condition it is in.’

‘I don’t care what condition it’s in. It is going to save our lives!’ Joss could hardly contain herself. ‘Mr Cornish, I don’t know how to thank you!’

He beamed at her. ‘It is your mother you should thank, Mrs Grant, not I.’

‘And my father.’ Joss bit her lip. ‘I gather it was my father who wanted me to have the house.’

It was several minutes before John Cornish’s secretary, on his instructions, appeared in his office carrying a small tin box which she laid reverently on the desk.

‘The keys, if I remember, are all neatly labelled.’ John Cornish pushed it towards Joss. ‘If you have any problems, let me know.’

She stared down at it. ‘You mean, that’s it?’

He smiled happily. ‘That’s it.’

‘It’s my house?’

‘It’s your house, to do with as you wish, provided you abide by the conditions.’ He stood up again, and extended his hand. ‘Congratulations, Mrs Grant. I wish you and your husband every happiness with your inheritance.’

4 (#ulink_1bf2a872-5e6b-5d4a-a160-63ffe7c5e6aa)

‘I don’t believe it. Things like that don’t happen in real life.’ Lyn Davies was sitting opposite her adoptive sister at the small kitchen table, her eyes round with envy.

Joss reached down to Tom, sitting playing by her feet and hoisted him onto her knee. ‘I can’t believe it’s true either. I have to keep pinching myself. It makes up for losing this.’ She glanced round her at the little kitchen.

‘I’ll say. Talk about falling on your feet!’ Lyn scowled. ‘Have you told Mum and Dad about all this?’ Two years younger than Joss, she had been conceived after Joss’s adoption, five years after Alice had been told she could never have a child of her own. Totally unlike Joss to look at – she was squarely built, had short, curly blond hair and deep grey eyes. Nobody ever had taken them for sisters.

Joss nodded. ‘I rang last night. They think it’s like a fairy story. You know, Mum was so worried I’d be disappointed when I wanted to look for my real parents; but she was so good about it.’ She glanced at Lyn. ‘She didn’t mind.’

‘Of course she minded!’ Lyn reached for the pot and poured herself another mug of thick black coffee. ‘She was desperately unhappy about it. She was frightened you might find another family and forget her and Dad.’

Joss was shocked. ‘She wasn’t! She can’t have believed that.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘She didn’t feel that at all. You’re stirring again, Lyn. I wish you wouldn’t.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Look, are you sure you want Tom tomorrow?’ She hugged the little boy close. ‘Luke and I can take him with us –’

Lyn shook her head. ‘No. I’ll have him. He’ll only get in your way while you’re measuring for curtains or whatever.’ Catching sight of Joss’s face she scowled again. ‘All right, sorry. I didn’t mean it. I know you can’t afford curtains. Go on, you and Luke go and enjoy your day out. It will do him good to get away from all this mess with H & G. Mum and I will love having Tom!’

Luke drove, his handsome square face haggard with worry and loss of sleep. For a second Joss reached over and touched his hand. ‘Cheer up. You’re going to love it.’

‘Am I?’ He turned to her and finally he grinned. ‘Yes, you’re right, I am. If the roof keeps most of the rain out and there is a garden big enough to grow vegetables in, I’m going to love it. I don’t care what it looks like.’

The last week had been a nightmare of solicitors, bank managers and police investigators. Meetings with them and with creditors and accountants had filled Luke’s every waking hour as he watched the small engineering company which had been his whole life being taken apart and put under the microscope. They were not to be bankrupted at least. But it was no comfort to know that Barry Henderson was being sought by Interpol. The sour taste Barry’s betrayal had left in his mouth and the inevitable loss of the mews cottage had detracted badly from his pleasure in Joss’s windfall. And from the relief he felt when he realised that for the time at least they would have a roof, however leaky, over their heads whilst they decided what to do with the rest of their lives.