CHAPTER THREE
Tuesday, 30 September
PRESENT DAY
“Hurry up, Claire.”
“Coming. Won’t be a sec.”
Marianne paced the hall and tried to quell the edgy feeling in her stomach. A few minutes later, Claire emerged from the bathroom dressed in a cropped jacket and jeans, long pale hair framing her lightly tanned face. Her lips and eyes united in a smile. One that Marianne ignored as she propelled Claire through the door and double-locked it behind her.
Outside, the gray skies matched the dour surroundings of her rented digs. The red of Claire’s car, a twenty-fourth birthday present to herself in June, was the only splash of color. They climbed in and set off for Belle Vue.
Marianne chewed on her lip. Should she tell Claire? The subject had never come up before. She wished her sister Debra was here to back her up, but she had moved to Cardiff to start her university course. Not that Debs would want anything to do with Belle Vue.
Marianne gazed out of the window as they went past increasingly desirable properties. St. Albans wasn’t just a popular tourist destination but an area of prime real estate. She wiped her damp palms on the front of her trousers and made her decision.
“It’s most likely nothing, but I want to tell you a few things about Belle Vue.”
Claire cast a quizzical eye in her direction.
“I’ve been there before,” she said.
“You never mentioned it.”
Marianne ignored the pout in her friend’s voice and continued. “I went there with Debs about eleven or twelve years ago, long before the developers ever got involved.”
As the memories flooded back, she stared unseeing out of the windscreen. “We’d just moved again and on our first day at school, Debs spotted a huge wreck of a building from the top of the bus. For some reason, it fascinated her. She kept bugging me about it and I gave in just to shut her up. I think Belle Vue closed in the fifties and by the time we got there, it was completely derelict.”
Claire pulled up as the lights changed to red. “And?”
“We squeezed through a broken gate. Everything was overgrown, but we found a path that took us to the back of the main building, to a half-open door, its lock ripped off. Of course, Debs said it was as though someone was waiting for us.”
“Sounds like she was winding you up,” Claire said, grinning.
Marianne scowled. “Anyway. We went inside. Two teenagers in an empty old asylum that looked like the set of a horror movie.”
Claire’s grin remained in place. “So, what happened?”
“Debs kept a running commentary like we were on one of those Murder Mystery tours. You know the type of thing, ‘The misery of the lunatics is trapped in these walls forevermore but, on a moonless night, their shadows . . . ’ All the while, I felt like we were being watched. Debra must have felt the same since we stuck to each other like Siamese twins. The place was cold and silent except for our footsteps on the bare floorboards. Every now and then, we’d stop and hold our breaths, straining to catch any sound.
“Then we heard a door slam. Bang! You ought to have seen how high we jumped. We legged it out of there so fast, I got a stitch.”
Pause. Marianne looked across at Claire. “But that wasn’t what bothered me,” she said in a low voice. “Once outside, we followed the path round the main building and saw this chapel. Of course, Debs wanted to go in and, by now, I didn’t. While we were arguing, a woman appeared at the door. The chapel was half-side-on to us, so I couldn’t see if she’d come from inside or walked around it. Talk about a shock. It sure shut us up quick.
“She stared at both of us. From one to the other, as though sizing us up. Then she smiled, which believe it or not, was worse.
“‘Now, who will I choose?’ she said, in this snide tone. ‘You. Or you.’
“We stood there like two dummies, wondering what on earth she was up to.
“‘What’s your name?” she asked me, and when I told her, she laughed like it was some huge private joke.
“‘I choose you then,’ she said. ‘Your fate is now sealed, Mar-i-anne. Poor you, dying slowly is such hell.’”
“She really wanted to scare you two rigid. I bet she’s still chuckling about it. Anything else?” Claire asked, moving the car forward as the lights changed to green.
“Isn’t that enough?” Marianne felt queasy at the memory. “I’ll never forget those words, or the malice in her voice, like some evil old witch. Then the bloody chapel bell tolled. Debs and I looked at each other, turned and ran as if the Devil himself was chasing us. We couldn’t get out of there quick enough.”
“That’s the last thing I’d imagine you doing.” Claire’s brow furrowed. “Why didn’t you stand up to her? She couldn’t have been that intimidating, could she?”
Marianne shrugged but didn’t answer since Claire sounded as though she wouldn’t believe her.
“She was probably making sure you didn’t trespass again. One day, you’ll laugh about it with your grandkids. After all, no one can really tell the future.”
“I hope you’re right,” Marianne said. “But I think about it sometimes and wonder what made her say such a thing.”
She gave a weak grin and peered out of the window at the high stone wall. A large estate agent’s sign proclaiming Belle Vue Manor came into view. Her smile faded.
Claire slowed the car and turned in through a pair of imposing iron gates.
On their right, a small gabled lodge signposted as the Sales Office for the development. They pulled into the paved parking area behind the building next to a single vehicle. It wasn’t Alex’s.
Marianne struggled to her feet from the low seat. She glanced over at Claire’s blissful expression as she took in the lush tracts of greenery with their few autumnal specks and the line of stately trees arrayed on either side of the driveway as it curved up the hill.
“Hey, this is great.”
Marianne’s optimism dropped several notches. “Yeah, but don’t get too excited, the apartment may be dreadful.”
“Miss Grumpy,” Claire said, as she rooted about in her handbag. She pulled out a mirror and lipstick. “Since Alex isn’t here yet, I might as well put on some more war paint.”
Claire puckered her shining lips at Marianne then sashayed toward the sales office laughing.
“Ugh, I think I’m going to be sick,” Marianne called out.
She stood motionless for a few seconds. In truth, she did feel nauseous. Reliving the words of that horrible woman brought it all back. The nightmares and the gut-churning worry that what the woman had said might ever come true. The vow never to go near the old asylum again. She felt mean hoping Claire wouldn’t like the place, but she couldn’t shake the feeling Belle Vue might have something to do with her future though not in a good way.
She only hoped she was wrong.
Alex stepped through the door of the Belle Vue Manor Sales Office. A woman, plastered in makeup was telling Claire in a strident voice, “This might just be your lucky day.”
Three sets of eyes, one with a predatory gleam, swiveled in his direction.
Claire introduced him and Angela, the agent, spent a few minutes sounding him out before reverting to the likeliest prospect. “As I was saying, Claire . . . ”
Marianne, in her usual black—this time a baggy jumper and leggings—nodded to him. Her arms were crossed, her face glum.
He briefly wondered if she and Claire had had an argument before tuning in to the agent again.
“One of the best apartments in the main block just came back on the market at the weekend. A bit unexpected. The buyer changed his mind and decided to take one in the new phase. If you’re interested, I’ll show you that one first?”
Claire agreed, and Angela told them a little of the Manor’s history. Alex continued to listen to an airbrushed version of events. No mention of the asylum, only that it had been a hospital.
Despite waking with a head like a bowling ball, he’d done a quick search on the asylum’s closure. Scanning a couple of online articles from one of the local papers, the material sparked his interest even more. In the late fifties, a senior nurse at the asylum had gone missing. They never found the woman but, after reading her diaries, her father had made a huge fuss. He accused the asylum of all manner of mismanagement, corruption and worse. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back. The asylum closed, and the few remaining patients were transferred.
He asked Angela if she knew anything about it. Her eyes narrowed, and the fake lashes quivered. “I’m sure I don’t,” she replied, in a sniffy tone. “Probably something the press dreamed up on a quiet day. Most likely, the woman ran off to escape her nosy father and is now living by the sea in retired bliss.”
Behind her, Marianne caught his eye and smirked.
Claire, standing on the other side of the agent, pouted. “Angela’s right. Anyway, who cares what happened fifty years ago? It’s completely irrelevant.”
Alex shrugged and raised his hands. “Only curiosity. You know I find this type of stuff fascinating.”
Claire didn’t look convinced, but at least she gave him half a smile.
Angela gestured toward the wall, “You can see how the old hospital used to look. There’s a copy of the blueprints, too.”
He took Claire’s hand, gave it a squeeze and led her to a large sepia-tinted photograph. They gazed at a group of stern dignitaries in front of a grand Victorian facade. A new label hid most of the original silver plaque. It read, ‘Opening of Belle Vue Hospital, 31 March, 1867.’
Marianne peered over Claire’s shoulder. “They all look very grim. God help the patients.”
She pointed at a dour-faced woman seated at the end of the line. “Now this one looks mean. I wonder who she was. Don’t think I’d want someone like her nursing me.”
Alex stared at the picture, noting the bars at the windows of the building in the background. Before he had time to comment, Angela’s loud voice cut in.
“Let’s do the tour now. I’m on my own today, so I’ll leave you to mosey around the grounds once I’ve shown you the apartments.”
She shepherded them out of the office and into the weak sunlight. “The best way to get your first impression of Belle Vue is on foot. Let’s go.”
Angela tramped forward, with the three of them following in her wake. They marched up the drive to the curved apex where the trees gave way to a carpet of green and the main building came fully into view.
Alex took his first look at Belle Vue Manor and came to a sudden halt. Though he’d seen the pictures in the sales office, he wasn’t prepared for such a powerful impact. Its past gave it a terrible beauty, stunning yet repugnant at the same time. The Victorian mansion possessed a sense of grandeur and order as though paying architectural homage to the Queen: rigidly regal, but with an undertone of displeasure at being on show.
From either side of its large central section, two gray arms stretched out as though viewed through a wide-angle lens. Three rows of narrow sash windows spanned the breadth of his vision. They looked incongruously like hundreds of clowns’ eyes, each topped by an arc of red brick. He’d put money on it, though, there hadn’t been much laughter for those looking out.
The place intrigued him so, the germ of an idea that had begun last night blossomed. This could be a far better topic for his final year dissertation. He told the women his plan.
Clearly underwhelmed, Angela muttered something about not leaving the office unoccupied for too long. She set off again at a brisk pace. Claire clutched his hand and beamed at him. “That’s brilliant. I’ll have to buy this place so you can do all your research first hand.”
Marianne, he noted, kept her opinion to herself.
As they strode toward the main building, he half-listened to Angela’s sales pitch, but mostly toyed with his new idea.
“What’s that?” Claire asked Angela.
Alex looked to where Claire’s finger pointed.
With no immediate reply, Claire asked again. Alex glanced at Angela, curious about her newfound reticence. She gave him a lukewarm smile.
“The proper name is a belvedere, but we call it ‘the dome’,” she said, at last. Her voice held little of its previous enthusiasm.
The four gazed at the circular room perched in the center of the roof above the entrance.
“It’s kept open for any resident to use, if they want.” Angela’s voice trailed off. She fumbled in her pocket and produced a bunch of keys. “Now this is what I want you to see.”
Alex slowed as he reached the steps of the arched portico to survey the grand entrance. Angela stepped up to the double doors. She opened them with a flourish and stood back to allow them to enter.
Claire stepped through. “It’s fabulous.”
Alex agreed. He gazed at the expansive foyer with its parquet floors, high ceilings, and magnificent chandelier. Claire, he knew, wanted to invest some of the money left to her by her parents. This looked a winner and nothing like what it had been before. The excitement in her eyes warmed him and he hoped if she did buy here, it would be the base she needed.
Angela’s heels clicked on the patterned wood as she crossed to the ornate central staircase. She turned to Claire and pointed downward. “The underground level is now a state-of-the-art leisure facility. Apparently, the extensive rooms and tunnels were built in the late 1700s for the first Belle Vue Manor. But that place burned to the ground. When the Victorians built the hospital, they sealed it off.”
They descended the stairs.
Angela led them through to a long windowless corridor with a low ceiling and a row of metal doors. “We converted this smaller side into lockable storage facilities. Only the apartments in the main block, like the one I’m going to show you, have these.”
The floor was newly tiled, while the walls had been plastered over and painted a clinical white. How apt, he thought, but about as successful as makeup on a raddled crone.
Marianne looked as if she wished she was elsewhere. “You okay?” he asked.
She grimaced. “I shudder to think about what went on in these rooms. Nothing good springs to mind,” she said in a hushed voice.
Although he agreed, he briefly wondered why she was being so negative. Not like her at all. On the other hand, Claire’s expression resembled a child unwrapping a coveted toy at Christmas.
Angela started talking about the gym and pool, and his ears pricked up. They crossed the basement foyer to a plush reception area. Marianne’s face was now a study in boredom. He smiled to himself, sports definitely weren’t her thing. Too much like masochism, she’d once said.
They completed the rest of the tour and Angela continued her spiel as she led them back to the main hall. “I know you’ll be impressed, Claire. The apartment I’m about to show you is larger than some of the others that sold for the same price. I thought it would be snapped up. For some reason, people seemed interested but backed off putting in an offer. When I asked them why, they said it didn’t feel right for them. Takes all sorts, I suppose.”
As Alex reached the first-floor landing, the ceilings were lower, just as the stairs were steeper once out of view of the ground floor. He suspected the reason, but if he did take on this project, he would check it out to make sure.
They spent fifteen minutes looking round the apartment. He and Claire loved it while Marianne—for reasons he couldn’t begin to fathom—didn’t. She even sniped about the windows saying, “They made the asylum look bleak in that old photo, and it still looks bleak, even with the bars removed.”
“Well, I like them. Modern windows would look out of place.” Claire cast a conspiratorial glance at Marianne.
Alex thought, not for the first time, he’d never understand women.
They filed out to the hall.
“How long have you been working at Belle Vue?” Claire asked Angela.
“Must be about a year now. I made my first sale the day I arrived to set everything up. Have to admit, though, I didn’t need to do much selling.”
“Oh?”
“Our first resident came in knowing exactly what she wanted. We hadn’t even advertised it but she knew the apartment nearest the main foyer had been finished and wanted to buy it. It was going to be the main show flat, so they did up another instead. Let’s just say she’s rather forceful.”
Angela dropped her voice as though sharing a secret. “Like you, Claire, she was a cash buyer. It makes me wonder though why she was so keen. She never uses any of the leisure facilities. Bit of a waste. She must be at least sixty or seventy.”
When they reached the landing, Claire stopped. “Can we see the dome, please? I bet the view is amazing.”
Angela slowed but continued to edge toward the stairs. “There’s an awful lot more to see and I do have to get back to the office.”
“Come on, Angela. I have to see it. Otherwise, how will I know if this place is for me?” Claire offered a smile full of mischief.
“It’s very dusty. The cleaners keep telling me they’ve done it, but . . . ”
He glanced at Marianne, her face had lost all its color.
Angela sighed. She crossed the landing and opened an unnumbered door, revealing a small room with steep narrow stairs. They trooped forward, Marianne at the rear.
As Alex emerged into the circular room, he saw Angela was right. A thick layer of dust covered the carpet. The cleaners had definitely been stringing her a line.
Claire raised her nose and sniffed. “How lovely. Lavender.”
Marianne did a double-take. “Lavender? Claire, what are you talking about?” Tense voice, a sheen of sweat across her face. “It smells musty. Not nice at all.”
Claire rolled her eyes, wearing a faint grin, and said to forget it. Alex joined her at one of the large windows. They gazed out at the hills of St. Albans and the surrounding countryside. An impressive sight and difficult for Claire to find anything to compare to Belle Vue. He picked up her hand and kissed it in the way she liked.
Claire smiled at him, then shifted along a few feet. “Hey, you can see the chapel much better from up here,” she said over her shoulder to Marianne.
“Yes, I know. Let’s just hope the bell doesn’t keep everyone awake,” Marianne said.
Claire didn’t seem to be paying any attention. She was staring through the trees toward the stone building fringed by a mixture of bushes and flowerbeds.
“What do you think?” Angela asked Claire. “Do you want to see the newly released apartments? There’s been a lot of interest already. We sold four over the weekend and a lot of second viewings booked for this week. You’ll have to be quick to not miss the boat.”
“I think if I buy here, it’s got to be 201. I feel I was meant for that place, but . . . ” Claire looked at Marianne. “Let me think about it a bit more.”
Alex felt his head start to throb again but was keen to make sure Claire didn’t lose out. He asked if Angela would hold the apartment for a day or two.
She agreed. Claire squeezed his hand and whispered her thanks. Her flirtatious look sent shivers to all the right places, but they vanished when he caught Marianne’s sullen expression.
He was still figuring out her reaction, when Claire asked, “Is the chapel still used?”
Angela shook her head. “The vicar at the church nearby is responsible for it. No services, of course. For now, it’s kept as a quiet place for the residents’ use. Reverend Snedley keeps an eye on it, that’s all. I think he hoped it would encourage some new residents to join his flock.”
Claire turned to look through the glass again. She started, her head jerking closer to the window as though to see better.
“Oh.” A single word rife with disappointment.
“Are you okay?” Alex turned to scan the area below where her gaze seemed fixed. Nothing unusual. Marianne and Angela joined them.
Claire’s face remained pressed to the glass. “I thought I saw that woman.”
“What woman?” Marianne asked as she ran her finger along the ledge. She pulled out a tissue from her jacket pocket and wiped her hand.
“You know, I told you about her yesterday, the one I nearly knocked down. The one who stared at me and touched my car.”
Alex almost laughed at Claire’s melodramatic tone but, seeing her face, he caught himself.
“Her? Really?” Marianne said.
They stood in a line looking at the empty space between the chapel and the main entrance. When he slipped his arm round Claire’s waist, she looked up at him. The flicker of concern in her eyes disappeared and she relaxed against him.
“I only saw the bright wig,” Claire said. “Even if it was her, what does it matter?”
The agent smiled at Claire, the red smudges of lipstick on her teeth creating an unfortunate vampiric effect. “Not a jot. Now, why don’t you have a think as you look round the rest of the grounds? Come and see me before you leave.”
Claire nodded her agreement. Alex could see the fingers of her left hand were crossed. She gave a contented sigh and said, “I think you were right, Angela. This may be my lucky day after all.”
