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‘What’s up, Mam?’
‘The keys for Elder Fell Cottage. I don’t know what I done with them before. Have you seen ‘em?’
‘I’ve got them here. Just a minute. What do you want them for?’
‘Young lady from down at the campsite says she left her car key there. She wants to go back and have a look.’
He came out of the kitchen and down the corridor towards them. His mother wasn’t a tiny woman, but Peter seemed to fill the corridor, his head nearly touching the top of the doorframe. The Peter of her memory and the photograph had been thin, but he was no longer a young man, and Peter was now broad as well as tall, though he hadn’t lost the ruggedness she remembered.
‘Here you go.’ He looked her up and down for a long while before he handed her the cottage keys. His scrutiny made her feel awkward.
‘Thank you. I’ll be as quick as I can. I don’t want to inconvenience you.’
‘No inconvenience. Don’t trouble yourself.’ Though his words were polite the way he looked at her and his slow drawl weren’t entirely warm. Peter was looking not at her but through her. He made her feel small and young, and as if she was intruding.
He turned back to the kitchen and closed the door firmly. Mrs. Thompson looked over her shoulder and said quietly: ‘Never you mind our Peter. He doesn’t mean owt by it. Are you going up with your mam, young man?’ she asked Harry.
‘Yes. I’m not allowed to play with Oliver any more today because he tried to make me spell “gnat”. Mrs. Thompson?’
‘Yes?’
‘Is there a ghost?’
‘There are many strange things in this world,’ she said. ‘Are you thinking of one in particular, like?’
‘That’s because I was telling the boys the story of the lovers in the tarn,’ Amy explained.
‘Oh ay. That old tale.’
‘Have you ever seen them in the tarn? It was this tarn, wasn’t it?’ Harry asked.
‘Ay, it was. That’s where Loverswater gets its name, you see, after them two.’
‘So, it is a true story?’ Harry asked eagerly. Mrs. Thompson leaned up against the doorframe, as if settling in to tell a long story and folded her arms.
‘No, of course —’ Amy began to say, but Mrs. Thompson answered Harry’s question.
‘It is that. It was Reg’s grandmother as told me it, and I told it to your grandmother Jen a long time ago. I’m not sure it’s true you can see ghosts in the water, like, but the man in the story, John Thompson, he was one of my Reg’s ancestors. That’s his little cottage, you know, Elder Fell Cottage,’ she said, turning to Amy.
‘What do you mean, his cottage?’ How could he have a cottage if he was a character in an old story?
‘Elder Fell Cottage was built for the poor lad as drowned. For him and his bride that never was. That’s their initials you see — they’re carved over the door and on the old salt-cupboard. J. E. T. — John and Eliza Thompson they would have been if he’d have lived. Instead, they found him and that serving girl floating in the water. Tragic. They say the cottage is cursed.’
‘You mean they were real?’ Amy said.
‘Of course, they were! You’ll find their graves down in the little church at Elderthwaite, buried side by side.’
‘Not in a grave together, still locked in each other’s arms?’
‘No. Who told you that? Your mother? Eh, she was always a romantic.’
Was Mrs. Thompson talking about Jen? Anyone less romantic than her sensible mother was hard for Amy to imagine.
‘Look under the big yew tree and you’ll find ‘em. John Thompson, beloved son with a mighty fine headstone, and next to him a tiny marker with “Lovina” on it. That’s her, the little maidservant.’
‘I knew it was a real story!’ Harry declared proudly. ‘I’m going to tell Oliver.’
‘No, Harry, you mustn’t. He’ll be scared.’
‘He’s a baby.’
‘You mustn’t tell, him, Harry, do you understand?’ She made her voice as firm as she could. ‘It’s very important you don’t tell Oliver.’
‘No, why don’t we keep this as our secret?’ Mrs. Thompson said with a wink towards Amy. ‘A special secret just for us, Harry. Can you do that? Or I might not be able to have a word with Peter to ask if you can take the dog out. So, can you do it?’
‘Yes!’ Harry declared confidently.
