‘Don’t joke. I’m serious. In ten years’ time, my mates’ll still be on the estate, sleeping all morning, sitting outside the off licence all afternoon, smoking weed all night in each other’s houses, playing Call of Duty on ripped off Xboxes. That’s not going to be me, even if the art thing fails.’
‘Of course it isn’t. And the art thing won’t fail.’
‘I owe you, Jen. Big time. And I’m going to pay you back.’
‘I don’t want your—’
‘I’m going to pay you back,’ he repeated, alight with the ferocity of his resolve.
‘OK,’ she said quietly. ‘OK. I believe you. Now will you come and drink your wine?’
It was the right thing to say, she realised. It had been pointless to tell him that he didn’t need to do it, that she was happy with the way things were, that she didn’t begrudge a penny. The point was his resolution, his determination to overcome the wasted years and turn himself into somebody he could live with.
But there was nothing he could do tonight, so she tried to change the subject.
‘I’ve been reading that book I found in the cellar at the Hall,’ she said.
‘Oh yeah?’ His voice was blank, as if the impassioned speech before had drained him of expression.
‘I really think the body is hers,’ she said.
‘Whose?’
‘Frances Manning . . . Fairy Fay. She gets a job as governess at Harville Hall. I think she goes on to marry the lord and he kills her, or she kills herself.’
‘Sounds like a good book.’
‘No, it’s really creepy to read, actually. I’ve only got as far as her getting to Harville Hall and meeting everyone, but I’m dreading what’s going to happen next. I almost don’t want to read on.’
‘What, and you haven’t even got to the good bit yet? Have you got it with you?’
Jenna nodded. ‘I shouldn’t have brought it
, really. It’s delicate. That’s another reason I don’t much like reading it. It smells so weird – sort of sour and dusty. It’s a miserable smell for a miserable story. But I wrapped it up in a tablet cover and brought it all the same.’
‘Give us a read. Do you think it’s really the diary of the skeleton we found? Do you think she was murdered?’
Jenna rose to find her suitcase.
‘I don’t know, Jason, and I’m not sure I want to find out.’
‘I do. Go and get it.’
Chapter Six
January 17th
I breakfasted alone in my room – comfortable enough, if a little small – and then the young ladies were brought in to meet me. Oh heavens, ridiculous that I should be nervous of a pair of little girls, but I was, very much.
Both of them wore expressions of milk-curdling sourness, such that I was grateful to have already disposed of the little jug of cream for my porridge. All my efforts at friendliness and conversation were met with severe rebuff. Not a word fell from their lips.
The lady who had brought them in was the family’s nurse, Bertha – a lady who had performed faithful service at Harville Hall for many years, and indeed, it was evident, for she was very elderly. She reminded them of the master’s decision that I was to be the last governess before the last resort of boarding school was reached, and this seemed to bring a weary resignation to the fore. Both girls then bade me good day and offered a species of reluctant curtsey.
It was not much, but better than the frozen silence.
Our first morning in the school room was a long and dreary affair. To elicit any response at all from them was the proverbial drawing of blood from a stone. And yet one sensed that, beneath their hostility, two unhappy and lonely girls existed, having only each other for comfort. I have determined to be a friend to them, even if I must crack away at their stubborn carapaces for a month of Sundays.
Saw very little of Lord H, who went out to the mine and then kept himself in his study all evening. It is lonely here and the staff, when I attempt to engage any of them in light discourse, oblige me with such a sullen air that I am quite put off.