LITMIR.BIZ

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one, and I want it to be better than Ice Maiden. I’d have a whole month to myself. I could even get the first draft finished and after that, editing it would be a doddle!’

      ‘And you’re sure you wouldn’t be nervous, alone?’

      ‘No, Mum! Of course not! And Jeannie will almost certainly be there at weekends; from Friday evening to Monday afternoon, actually. That gives me almost four days to write like mad and I’d be safer at Deer’s Leap on my own than I would in the middle of Leeds or Liverpool – or London! Mum – you know it makes sense. And you could ring me and I’d ring you …’

      ‘We-e-ll – I’ll have to see what your dad has to say about it …’

      She was weakening, so I didn’t say another word.

      After that I hovered over the downstairs phone, then over the phone on my desk, willing either to ring, willing it to be Jeannie. I was so exhausted willing and hovering that when it finally shifted itself I stood mesmerized, looking at it.

      ‘Jeannie?’ I whispered.

      ‘How did you know it was me?’

      ‘Have you spoken to Beth?’ I begged the question. ‘What did she say?’

      ‘She’s quite taken with the idea. They both are – with reservations, of course.’

      ‘Like what?’

      ‘She’s a bit anxious about you being nervous, but I told her you wouldn’t be.’

      ‘Is Beth nervous alone there during the day?’

      ‘No, of course not.’

      ‘There you are then. Is it on, Jeannie?’

      ‘If you’re sure – then yes, it is. I’m looking forward to a few weekends there.’

      ‘It’s going to be quite a thrash, all the way from London. Will you drive up?’

      ‘No way. I’ll get the train, then I can work. Lord only knows how much reading I’ve got to do. Could you pick me up at Preston station?’

      ‘No problem.’ The thudding had started again, and the little fluttery pulse behind my nose. ‘It’s going to be wonderful. I’ll be able to get loads of work done too. As it is, I aim to send you the first ten chapters before I see you.’

      ‘Fine. Beth will be getting in touch later. I gave her your phone number. She said it might be a good idea if you were to arrive the day before they go – get to know the geography of the place.’

      ‘Like …?’

      ‘Oh, when the bread van calls and the egg lady. And they’ve got a water softener. You’ll have to know about that. No problem at all, but it recharges itself so she’ll explain about the gurgling noises you might hear every fourth night in the small hours. Sure you’re still keen, Cassie? If you’ve changed your mind, now’s the time to say so.’

      ‘I want to go. Deer’s Leap is magic. I’ll be there!’

      

      ‘That was Jeannie,’ I said to Mum, who was expecting to be told. ‘Beth and Danny are pleased about my going. And I forgot to tell you, the bread van calls, and the egg lady.’

      I thought it best not to mention that I already knew that Beth left notes and money for them in a large, lidded box at the end of the dirt road near the crossroads.

      ‘Hm.’ Mum was getting used to the idea, I could tell. ‘I’ve never met your Miss McFadden, except on the phone.’

      ‘Then you should. Why don’t you and Dad drive up there one Sunday? Surely you can leave the place for a day? Jeannie would love to meet you both.’

      Holidays together for market gardeners and their spouses are few and far between. It’s like being a dairy farmer, I suppose: a seven-days-a-week job.

      ‘Hm,’ she said again, obviously liking the idea. ‘When will you be going?’

      ‘Not for a couple of weeks. Beth is really looking forward to a break. They haven’t had a proper holiday for ages, Jeannie said.’

      ‘I know exactly how she feels,’ Mum said fervently.

      ‘Then a day out would be good for you both. Just pick your time and arrive when you feel like it – preferably when Jeannie’s there.’

      I wasn’t being devious, getting Mum interested and on my side. As soon as she saw the house she would love it every bit as much as I did and see for herself how safe and snug it was.

      ‘I just might take you up on that,’ she said, filling the kettle.

      That was when I had my first big panic. What if, in the entire month I was there, I didn’t see Jack Hunter? What if he only appeared once a year? His bomber had crashed not long after the Normandy landings; probably about the time I’d seen him.

      The panic was gone as quickly as it came, because I knew he would be there. He and I were on the same wavelength, and he had something to tell me.

      

      The birds awoke me at five on the morning of my departure. I focused my eyes on the bright blur behind the curtains, then yawned, stretched and snuggled under the quilt again to think about – oh, everything! About my route; where I would stop to eat my sandwiches; about leaving the A59 and driving to Acton Carey on Broads, so I could dawdle and look around me and think about the four weeks ahead.

      I had no plan in my mind about discovering who lived at Deer’s Leap before the Air Force took it in the war. Nor had I the faintest idea how I would set about finding where they had gone when their home and land were requisitioned without the right of appeal.

      Things would work out in their own good time. It stood to reason I’d been meant to drive along a narrow road one summer morning because a lost soul wanted a lift to Deer’s Leap. Thoughts of the supernatural didn’t worry me at all. I knew no fear except that perhaps Jack Hunter would not be able to tell me what I wanted to know.

      How deeply, despairingly had he and his girl loved? Very deeply, my mind supplied, or why should the need of her, fifty years on, be the cause of such unrest? Perhaps they had not said a proper goodbye and her heartbreak had been terrible when she knew she would never see him again. All at once I was glad I had not lived during those times, nor known the fear that each kiss might be the last between me and –

      Between me and whom? Not Piers, that was certain. If Piers were to walk out of my life tomorrow I was as sure as I could be that only my pride would be hurt. He and I did not, nor ever would, love like that long-ago couple. I didn’t even know her name, yet I was sure of the passion between them. Their lives had become a part of me, and until I could discover what caused such devotion from beyond the grave, I would never be free – if I wanted to be free, that was …

      I sighed, and leaned over to pull back a curtain. The early morning was bright, but not too bright. Mornings too brilliant too early are weather breeders. I pushed aside the quilt, and swung my feet to the floor. Best I get up. The sooner I did, the sooner it could all begin.

      

      By the time I got to the clump of oak trees at the start of the final mile, my mouth had gone dry. The day was warm and sunny and I drove with the windows down. My hair was all over the place, but my short, bitty style can be tamed with a few flicks of my fingers.

      I could feel my cheeks burning, whether from the heat, or driving, or from the triumph that sang through me, I didn’t know. Perhaps it was a bit of all three, with a dash of anticipation thrown in.

      I slowed as I neared the place, coughing nervously. I was almost there; about a hundred yards to go. I remembered that first time taking my eyes off the road for a second, then looking up to see the airman there.

      I glanced to my right, then gazed ahead. He wasn’t there and soon I would have driven past the place. I looked at my watch. I had timed my journey so as to be in

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