achieve even a single bar of connection in spite of standing on chairs, leaning out of the window, even climbing out onto the balcony.
The music had stopped for a while, long enough for her to shout herself hoarse, but the only response had been the hurling sough of the wind outside and the cries of impervious birds. She’d searched the desk for something to help force the latch on the library door but had found no scissors, no paperknife, not even a ruler. She’d used the books again, banging them into the stubborn metal, but not even the bigger volumes had made a difference and nor had trying to ram the door with a chair.
When the music had suddenly started up again it had seemed louder, more oppressive than ever.
Offenbach, ‘Hey Jude’, ‘Jumpin’ Jack Flash’, ‘The Gaelic Blessing’, Mozart’s ‘Night Music’, ‘Je ne regrette rien’, Chopin, Schubert, ‘Then He Kissed Me’, ‘Young Girl’, Puccini and the same Puccini again. She’d never considered any of it menacing before, and realized that it was the volume making it so now, but worse than that, far worse, was the fact that Freda was doing this. What did it mean? What was she hoping to gain?
After the fourth time of playing she realized it was on a loop so it was going to play, over and over, until someone turned it off – or until she hurled herself out of the window to escape it. She wouldn’t do that, obviously, the only place to land was the rocks at the base of the tower and she’d never survive that kind of fall. If the wisteria was strong enough she might be able to climb down, but she wasn’t going to try it now. It was already getting dark, and the wind was so strong it would tear her from the creeper and make her fall as disastrous as if she’d jumped.
Where was Brenda? Why hadn’t she come?
Joely had barely taken her eyes off the drive these past few hours desperate to see someone, anyone, but no one had come, or gone, although she was convinced by now that Freda was no longer in the house.
So what the heck was she going to do?
She looked at her computer, thought of her mother and Freda’s crazy accusation, but before she could try to attach any sense to it the music suddenly started up again.
She couldn’t stand any more of it. She needed to think, to work out if Freda knew where her mother lived, if she could be going there to try and settle some imagined vendetta. What the heck was in Freda’s mind? Without her phone she couldn’t warn her mother, but she needed to do something, contact someone, Callum, Edward, Andee … There just wasn’t a way …
Andee looked up as Graeme came into the bedroom and sat down on his side of the bed.
‘Who are you calling?’ he asked, kicking off his shoes and loosening his watch.
‘I’m trying Joely on the off chance I might get her,’ she replied, mobile pressed to one ear, iPad open in front of her. ‘Hi,’ she said to the voicemail, ‘sorry it’s taken me a while to get back to you, we’ve got a few issues going on here, I’ll tell you when I see you. I’m around all day tomorrow so try me when you can.’
As she rang off Graeme came to take both phone and iPad from her hands and set them on the nightstand. ‘I know how worried you are about your mother,’ he said.
‘Alayna too,’ she reminded him, referring to her daughter.
‘Alayna too, but you’ll be able to help them all much better, Joely too, if you get some sleep.’
Andee smiled as she picked up on the tone of his voice. ‘And you have just the way to make that happen?’ she asked, knowing that he did.
‘I do,’ he confirmed, and turning her over he placed his soothing hands on her back to start the process with a massage.
It was morning.
Joely could hear the birds singing and the distant sibilance of waves. There was nothing else, no music, no voices, only the sound of her breathing and the silence.
She opened her eyes, carefully, nervously.
It was barely light, but she wanted to weep with dismay when she realized she was still in the writing room, curled up on the daybed. It hadn’t been a nightmare, it was actually happening.
She picked up her phone, and saw straight away that the battery was dead.