The next day dawned with cloud and cooler air that brought a chilly wind with it. Laura awoke in her aunt's house, in the big old Victorian bed that was in the room she was sleeping in. She yawned and rubbed gently at her eyes. She'd not slept well. During the night she'd awoken several times but not known what had roused her, a creaking noise in the house or the wind rattling the windows perhaps; she couldn't be sure. The room felt damp and as she got out of bed she went to the window and opened it a little. The old sash window rattled and grumbled in its frame as she lifted it up. One of the cords had frayed and hung limply over the casement like an unlit fuse wire.
The air outside was cooler than that of the room but not in the least bit fresher. Above Ash Rake House the grey thickening cloud muddied the sky like dirty thumbprints on a sheet of white paper. Below the grey sky a restless wind keened through the ash trees on the rake, rattling the newly opened leaves like bunches of old forgotten keys. Resting against the window casement, Laura looked out for a moment at the spectacular view in front of her. Ash Rake House was almost at the top of the limestone plateau that formed part of the characteristic landscape of the White Peak. As such there were magnificent views down the Derwent valley and to the other side of the river valley, the brown gritstone edges that always looked to Laura like magnificent golden steps suddenly dropped down to lower moorland slopes that in turn faded from brown heather and bracken into the brighter green of the hills that in turn rolled down to the edge of the river that snaked through the bottom of the valley.
Laura glanced up to the rake, just visible from the window, on the ridge of the hill that rose above the house. She wasn't sure, but she thought she saw a figure again, between the trunks of the ash trees. Frowning, she peered and shaded her eyes from the brightness of the sky but then decided that perhaps she couldn't see anything at all and that she must have imagined it. A cool breeze blew in under the window; the air was always cold up here, even in summer and Laura shivered and felt a rising of goosebumps on her arms. She shook her head in annoyance; her thoughts went to the old ghost stories of haunted lead mines and ghostly figures that her brothers and cousins had told her all those years ago when they had stayed at the house.
She closed the window and secured it with the bolt which, like much else in the house, was worn and fatigued with age. The bolt was stiff and resisted as she turned it on its thread it made a dry grinding sound in her grip. As she continued to twist it closed, it suddenly made a clunking sound and Laura realised the end had sheared off in her hand leaving the window bolted and now shut fast. The other windows in the house had suffered the same problem, either immovable due to their sheer weight and lack of sash cords or shut closed with inoperable bolts. Laura frowned at the ever-growing list of things that needed attending to before the house went on the market. She put the broken end of the bolt on the windowsill and sighing again went downstairs to make herself some breakfast.
After breakfast and ready for the day ahead she put her boots on in the hallway. She had just secured the laces when she heard a soft scratching. It was coming from the scullery. She stepped tentatively up the hallway towards the scullery door which was closed from the day before. The scratching noise stopped. Laura stopped and waited. The scratching noise came again and she stepped closer still, her heart beating just a little bit faster with trepidation. She waited again and the scratching continued. Slowly she edged closer to the scullery door. She heard a soft tapping noise and then suddenly, from the narrow gap between the bottom of the door and the floor, she saw a large snout, questing the air with quivering whiskers. The pink and brown nose sniffed and squeaked and then with a scrabble pulled a retreat from the door.
"Arrgh!" Laura cried out, not out of fear but of consternation. The snout and whiskers were enough to tell her that it was a rodent in the scullery. She grabbed the big round wooden doorknob and flung open the door just in time to see a large brown rat with a long pink rough tail scale up a stack of boxes that were piled into a tower against the back scullery wall. From the boxes the rat expertly leapt to the row of small square windows that had a narrow sill between the top of the scullery wall and the ceiling. There was a broken pane and the rat squeezed through to freedom with a final triumphant squeak of goodbye to Laura. Clearly it knew it where it was going and Laura suspected that it had leapt out the window onto an adjoining roof of one of the outbuildings at the back of the house.
Laura was livid. On her arrival at Ash Rake House she had found mice in a drawer in one of the bedrooms. They had taken up residence in a box of linen which they had shredded into a big soft ball in which Laura had discovered a mother with a nest of babies. She'd not had the heart to do anything else other than pick up the box and take the whole lot to one of the out-houses in the back yard. Mice were one thing, but Laura drew the line at rats. Scowling she pulled the door shut with a clunk and locked it with the big iron key. This she knew wasn't necessary and had arisen out of some sense of petty victory against the rat but at least if it came back through the broken window and into the scullery it couldn't sneak or push its way through into the rest of the house. Presumably, mused Laura, the scrabblings of the rat had resulted in her disturbed night's sleep. Laura added yet another job to her long list of things to get sorted in the house. Old girl she thought to the house as she hung the scullery key up on the hook by the door, you poor thing, I hope a new owner breathes some well-deserved life back into you.
Not long later, Laura left Ash Rake on foot. The activity lined up for that morning was potholing. The local geology consisted not only of ancient mineral and lead mines but also of huge underground caverns and tunnels. The area around Ashlow had several cave systems that were popular with experienced potholers and novice tourists alike. From Ash Rake House it was only a brisk 20-minute walk to the nearest cave system where Laura was going to meet up with the rest of the teambuilding group. She had with her a small bag with a change of clothes for later on, along with her purse and keys and a few other things she needed for the day. Laura was indifferent to potholing, but perhaps, she thought it was going to be slightly less demanding than the paintballing. Laura had no problem of being in confined spaces, it was sometimes part of her job when a victim had been discovered in an odd place. She smiled wryly to herself, the activity that morning wasn't that much different to a day in the field, especially as the usual CID team was going to be there. That evening there would be a wild cook out which from what Laura could gather was just a BBQ on a campfire outdoors. This, she thought might turn out to be a complete damp squib if the weather looked anything to go by and she had packed a waterproof jacket in her pack.
As she walked down the track that took her from the house towards the main road that led to Ashlow and beyond that to the next village, Laura felt a shiver; not just against the chilly breeze, but something more.
She had a feeling that all was not well.
She zipped her jacket up against the wind. She told herself it was the lonely keen of the wind over the hilltops that made her feel odd. Even in the nicest of weather there was always a chill on the high lonely windswept plateaus. She carried on walking towards the village. If she had turned round to look back at the house and the hill behind, she would have seen a figure, in the rake, between the trees, watching her as she left; the same figure she thought she had seen earlier; the same figure she had seen earlier in the week. But she didn't turn to look, despite a heavy nagging feeling weighing down on her as her footsteps took her down the road. There was rain in the wind but as she strode onwards towards Ashlow the sun came out and she suddenly felt the unease lift. She increased her stride and soon built up a quick pace. Her boots, well-worn friends from working in the field, crunched along the road as she walked, now at speed towards the village and the caves beyond.
Laura soon reached the village and popped into the post office to send some documents to the solicitors dealing with her aunt's house. As she paid for the postage she saw, driving by, a dark grey minibus with Stone Edge House Adventures emblazoned on the side. She saw Hathaway sitting with a glum face next to Jean Innocent who was chatting to him. In the seat in front she caught sight of Iain's rugged profile as the bus turned up the lane that led to the caves. Laura took the same route after she left the post office.
As she walked, she thought of Iain. All through dinner the night before she had, she had to admit to herself, enjoyed his company. As they had talked and then later as they had been sitting close, Laura felt once more the heat of desire, both from memories of the past but also from Iain's current attentions. It had been a while since she had been in a serious relationship and now all of a sudden she felt she was being pursued with the same vigour as she had experienced as a younger woman; it made her feel good. There was also something appealing about the possibility of revisiting something from the past that she was familiar with, despite how things had turned out at the time. Perhaps this time things could be different. Everyone made mistakes. They had both been young and Laura had picked herself straight up and had plenty of relationships since Iain, some throwaway, some with heartbreak. None had lasted. As she had grown older Laura yearned more and more for someone to share her life with. She didn't go looking anymore, she had learned this never worked out; there was too much emotional investment involved with little return. She also knew she really didn't have to look any further; the man she loved was already in her life. Oh Robbie she thought. If only things were different, if only you could let yourself explore the possibility of a new chapter in your life. But she knew it was no good. She would just have to accept that she and Robbie could only ever be good friends and nothing more. However much she wanted a relationship with him it clearly could never be possible. She couldn't forsake her own wellbeing and desires, she had to accept that. It was time to think of herself. And so her thoughts went back to Iain. The desire was certainly there but could she summon up feelings of strong emotion and love for Iain, after how he treated her and after all these years? She wasn't sure. But one thing was for certain, if she decided that she wanted to see if there was the possibility of a relationship with Iain, he was certainly sending out the signals that he wanted to go ahead.
All this was on her mind as she walked and she realised how occupied her thoughts had been with it all when she saw that she was almost at the small gravelled carpark near to the entrance of the cave system. She saw the minibus parked up and everyone milling around the small stone building at the head of the caves that was used as a base for the caving activities. Some of the team were already getting kitted out in bright orange over suits and hard hats with lights attached to the front. As she reached the carpark she saw Iain exit the stone building. He struck an impressive figure, tall and handsome with an appealing visual gravitas that had come with age.
Laura felt again the rise of attraction she felt.
There and then she decided that, if Iain made a romantic move towards her, she would return it.
Thank you so much, folks, for reading and for taking the time to leave me a message, I am so glad there are people still enjoying Robson as much as I am – this chapter wrote itself fairly quickly and I am busy thinking of the next few chapters as I type right now. I'm sorry there's still no Robson action yet – but there will be plenty ahead I can guarantee. . .
until next time ML x