River of Destiny by Barbara Erskine Page A

matter.’
    ‘So the whole ghost thing is a scam?’ She heard her voice rise at the tightness in her throat. She exhaled sharply. ‘It’s all a joke?’
    ‘Not all of it, no,’ he said quietly. He glanced at her face then looked away again. ‘Sorry. But as they are here, and they appear to be in malicious mode, you might be in for an escalation of events for a few days.’
    ‘They weren’t here, though, when the noises started, were they?’ Her moment of relief disappeared as soon as it had come.
    ‘No they weren’t.’
    ‘So all the door banging was real.’
    ‘Might have been the wind.’
    ‘And last night,’ she was silent for a moment, trying to make up her mind whether to tell him or not, ‘we came back tired after the most god-awful sail I have ever had and I was upstairs, looking down over the balcony and I thought I saw, heard, horses, quietly munching their hay, scraping their hooves. Maybe I didn’t actually see or hear them. I just sort of sensed it.’ She shook her head, embarrassed, sorry she had mentioned it as soon as the words were out of her mouth. ‘Don’t laugh at me. I expect I was hallucinating. I was so tired.’
    ‘I’m not laughing. I am sure horses have lived in here on and off over the centuries. Buildings hold memories. You were tired; your mind was relaxed, open.’ He hitched up to sit on the corner of the work station, one leg swinging. ‘So, what was so awful about the sail? I got the impression you were seasoned mariners.’
    ‘Ken is. He loved it. We were out in the sea, it was a bit rough, I suppose, and he decided to come back and we touched the bottom and suddenly I realised I was scared. Really scared, more scared than I have ever been in my life.’ She put her hands to her face for a moment.
    ‘We all get scared from time to time.’ He spoke with an unexpected gentleness. ‘That’s what gives the adrenaline.’
    She shook her head violently. ‘No. Not like this. It is supposed to be fun. And yes, exciting, but not so deeply, deeply frightening.’ She looked at him for a second and then shook her head again.
    ‘Why did you let him drag you up here if you hate it?’ he asked after a moment. ‘The move wasn’t for your benefit at all, was it?’
    There was a long pause. ‘I don’t hate it. I thought it would work. It was a challenge.’ She held his gaze defiantly.
    ‘And sailing, is that a challenge too?’
    She walked across to the window and stared out. ‘I can’t live my whole life afraid.’
    ‘It strikes me that you would be afraid of very little,’ he said thoughtfully.
    She grimaced. ‘But then you don’t know me very well. Perhaps afraid is the wrong word. In a rut, then. London was comfortable and safe.’
    ‘And sailing isn’t safe.’
    ‘We sailed before.’ She hunched her shoulders defiantly. ‘It was fine. It is fine.’
    In the distance the river water was dull, sluggish, creeping in, creeping up between the banks. She could feel the cold tiptoe across her shoulders and deliberately fought the reflexive shiver. The kitchen was warm.
    ‘It was partly because of his enthusiasm that we came here, of course it was. Our life together has always been like that. He’s the match, and I smoulder into flame.’ She broke off and it was a moment before she laughed. ‘But this time the flame hasn’t caught. Or not the way I expected. I thought I would like it here. I did – do – love it here. But something is wrong.’ Why was she confiding in him like this?
    ‘Does Ken know how you feel about all this?’ he said after a long pause. He had been watching her while she spoke.
    She nodded.
    How could she explain the complexity of their relationship? It was Ken’s enthusiasm, his drive, his passion which attracted her, his wiry single-mindedness. But it was that same single-mindedness which excluded her, blanked the parts of her personality which did not fit his template. Once she had thought she could change him, but the change, if