He hadn’t slept well. But then again he never did, and at Belthorn there were the added factors of a lumpy mattress, creaking floorboards and rumbling pipes coupled with the deep silence outside. His back had played up again, and as he tossed and turned the memories, guilt and remorse had kicked in. It had taken two doses of painkillers before he had managed to drop off, sometime after four in the morning.
He pulled the sheets and the duvet down, and repressed a groan as he stood up. The physio assured him that he was on the mend, but there were mornings when the pain clawing at his back was enough to make him howl – that’s if he was able to howl. Given the state of his vocal chords, he was more likely to croak.
The heating didn’t appear to be working much and his breath steamed in the freezing cold bedroom as he cursed his way through his stretching exercises. Fully awake now, but with his back and shoulders aching like hell, he grabbed his towel and walked to the bathroom. He wasn’t expecting a hot shower from the antiquated appliance above the bath, and he didn’t get one, but at least the tepid water washed away the remnants of the night, and he was ready to face his first day at Belthorn Manor.
After donning a pair of jeans and a jumper over his shirt, he laced up his army walking boots, and went down to the kitchen. A quick search of the cupboards uncovered a packet of biscuits and a tin of soup. That would do for a late breakfast. He made some coffee, and ate whilst watching the dark grey clouds race against one another above the rugged, snow-tipped mountains.
He had just finished washing-up when he heard an engine outside. It was followed by a loud knock on the front door that echoed through the house. The housekeeper was back, even though he had done his best to put her off. Remembering his intention to apologise for being short-tempered the day before, he fixed a smile on his face and went to open the door.
It wasn’t Cassie standing at the door but a dark-haired man in a high-vis orange anorak, oil-stained jeans and thick biker boots. Behind him was a roadside rescue truck. ‘Stefan Lambert?’
Without waiting for his answer, the man smiled. ‘I’m Mason Austin. I run the garage in Red Moss. Cassie said you needed a hand with your Range Rover.’
Stefan nodded. ‘That’s right. Thanks for coming. You’re saving me a long walk to the village. Let me get my coat and my keys.’
Mason gave him a lift to the Sanctuary Stone. Together they hooked a cable onto the tow bar at the back of the Range Rover. Mason climbed back into his truck to action the pulley, and the car was back on the lane in no time.
‘Do you want me to check it over?’ he asked after Stefan started the engine and revved it a few times.
‘It sounds all right to me.’ He didn’t mention that he was a skilled mechanic himself and could service and repair a whole range of engines, from mopeds to water pumps and generators, to light aircraft and helicopters. Instead he asked how much he owed for putting the Range Rover back on the road.
Mason shook his head. ‘You can buy me a pint at the pub this evening.’
Stefan frowned. ‘Are you sure?’
The mechanic smiled. ‘Positive. I am usually there by eight on a Saturday night.’
‘Then I’ll see you tonight.’
He turned to look at the standing stone by the side of the lane, and lifted a hand to touch the grooves carved on its cold, rough surface.
‘That stone looks old,’ he remarked.
‘It’s the abbey’s Sanctuary Stone,’ Mason Austin said. ‘I believe there were several of them in the old days.’
Stefan traced the patterns with his finger. ‘What’s a Sanctuary Stone?’
‘They marked the boundaries of the abbey where criminals could be granted asylum… or at least that’s what Miss Parker, our primary school head teacher used to tell us. She’s retired now, but if you’re interested in the history of the village, I’m sure she’d be happy to talk to you.’
‘I may very well do that.’
The men shook hands, and drove away in their respective vehicles. Back at Belthorn, Stefan set off to explore the manor house’s surroundings. His friend had warned him about the dangers of the fells. There were abandoned mine shafts, hidden pits, boggy terrain and ghylls – long, narrow ravines. And of course there was the weather, which could change in the blink of an eye from sunshine into a hellish snow blizzard or blinding white fog.
He zipped up his coat, wrapped a thick scarf around his neck and set off on the rocky path that snaked from the back of the house to the top of the hill. He would try to make it to the top. Failing that, the fresh air and physical effort would tire him out, and perhaps help him sleep instead of twisting and turning in bed, agonising about the past, with guilt and remorse festering inside him like an infected wound.
Charlie said that he would heal in time. How could he tell his friend that most days he didn’t think he deserved to heal? Days when he couldn’t breathe, and didn’t want to breathe?
Coming here might be the easy option – the coward’s option, his father had sneered. All Stefan wanted was a place to hide, push the memories away, if only for a while, and forget about Christmas.
Climbing that hill would be a start.
Chapter Six
By two o’clock, Cassie was loading the van with groceries, fruit and vegetables, packs of coffee and bottles of wine, bread rolls and baguettes.
‘Hi, Cassie. Do you need a hand?’ Darren’s voice said behind her.
Startled, she swung round too fast and bumped her head against the door.
‘Ouch!’ She rubbed her forehead. ‘Thanks, but I have finished now. What are you doing here?’
‘Shopping, like you. You bought a lot of stuff.’
She loaded the last two bags into the van and slammed the boot shut. ‘It’s not for me. It’s for Belthorn Manor.’
‘Ah yes, your grandfather mentioned that someone was staying there. Some French guy, he said. Belthorn is such a big house. How will you cope on your own now that Sophie has left?’
She frowned. How did he know that Sophie had gone to Manchester? ‘I’ll be fine.’
‘I can help.’
The words were on her lips before she realised. ‘No, thank you.’
He stared down at her, his brown eyes expressionless. ‘If you change your mind, you know where to find me. By the way, I’m on my way to buy a new lock for your back door. I’ll fit it tomorrow morning, since your granddad said you were going to a birthday party at your cousin’s farm in the afternoon.’
Her granddad seemed to be discussing their private life with Darren an awful lot lately, and she wasn’t sure she liked it.
‘Tomorrow is Sunday. Won’t you have better things to do than fix our lock?’
He shrugged. ‘Not really, and I’m always happy to help.’
It was true. Darren was generous with his time, and she should be more grateful. She forced a smile. ‘All right, then. See you tomorrow morning. Thank you.’
He put his hand on her trolley. ‘I’ll put it back for you.’
‘Thanks.’ She walked to the driver’s side and climbed behind the wheel.
What a strange young man… As she drove to Belthorn she recalled what she knew about him, which was almost nothing. She had first seen him around the village at the beginning of the summer when he got the caretaker job at the lakeside campsite. He lived in one of the mobile homes, didn’t seem to have made any friends – at least he was always alone when she saw him – but had made himself indispensable with many older residents of the village, and if her granddad was to be believed, even her grumpy neighbour Doris was a fan. And yet she couldn’t help it. There was something about him that made her uneasy.