really. I’m just a good old boy from Durham, North Carolina, who got a BA in English from UNC and wandered up north to study at SUNY Fredonia. I had my choice of a couple of different grad programmes, including a tempting one in San Diego, but I wanted Agatha Grant as an adviser, so I pulled some strings and got her, and here I am.’
Phil’s eyes widened. ‘Aggie Grant! She’s an old family friend! She was also my adviser when I got my MA in modern lit. at Cornell. She’s at Fredonia?’
‘Emeritus. She retired last year. That’s what I meant by pulling strings. I’m her last grad student. I’m after a doctorate in literature. In a few more months I’ll be taking orals to see if I get to continue, and an MA in passing. I’m doing my work on novelists who became film writers, on how work in films affects a writer’s work in print. I’m looking at writers who did both, like Fitzgerald, Runyon, William Goldman, Faulkner, and Clavell. And of course yourself. Though mostly I’m working on Fitzgerald. When I figure out the thrust of my dissertation, I’ll probably concentrate on him.’
Phil smiled. ‘You put me in some fine company, Jack.’
‘It’s all pretty technical and probably pretty boring.’ He looked embarrassed. ‘When the local papers printed the word you’d bought this place, I thought I might impose and get an interview with you.’
Phil said, ‘Well, I’ll help if I can. But I don’t have much in common with Fitzgerald. I don’t drink as much; I’m not having an affair with another writer; and my wife’s not crazy … most of the time.’
‘Thanks,’ said Gloria, drily.
‘I was going to call Aggie, and take a weekend and drive up to Ithaca. I had no idea she’d moved. First chance I have, I’ll get up to Fredonia and see her. God, it’s been years.’
‘Actually, you don’t have to go to Fredonia. She lives on the other side of the woods now, right at the edge of Pittsville. That’s part of the deal. I double as something of a groundskeeper, general factotum, and occasional cook, though she prefers to putter in the kitchen most of the time. She only runs up to the university when she has to, commencements, a colloquium, guest lecture, the occasional alumni function, that sort of thing.’
‘Tell Aggie I’ll be over in the next day or two.’
‘She’s at NYU for the next two weeks. She’s editing a collection of papers for a symposium in Brussels. But she should be back right after. She wouldn’t miss the Fourth of July celebration in Pittsville.’
‘Well then, as soon as she returns, have her give us a call.’
‘She’ll be glad to know you’re back home. She’ll whip up something special for the occasion, I expect.’ Jack finished his beer and rose. ‘Well, I want to thank you all – for the hospitality and the dinner. It’s truly been a pleasure.’ The last was not too subtly directed at Gabbie.
‘I hope we’ll be seeing you soon, Jack,’ said Gloria.
‘If it’s not an imposition. I hike this area when I’m thinking around a problem in my thesis, or sometimes I go riding through the woods.’
‘Riding?’ asked Gloria, a calculating expression crossing her face. Jack’s presence had lightened Gabbie’s mood for the first time since they’d arrived, and Gloria was anxious to keep her diverted from any black furies.
‘There’s a farm a couple of miles down the highway where they raise horses. Mr Laudermilch’s a friend of Aggie’s, so I can borrow one sometimes. Do you ride?’
‘Infrequently,’ answered Phil, ‘but Gabbie here rides every chance she gets.’
‘Oh?’
‘Bumper – that’s my horse – he’s a champion Blanket Appaloosa. Best gymkhana horse in Southern California, and one of the best cross-country horses at Highridge Stables.’
‘Never ridden an Appaloosa; they tend to be a little thick-skinned, I understand. But I guess they’re good working stock. Champion, huh? Pretty expensive, I guess.’
‘Well, he’s a good one …’ Gabbie shrugged, indicating money was not an issue. Gloria and Phil smiled.
Jack said, ‘Back home I had a Tennessee Walker. Perhaps you’d care to go riding some afternoon, after you’re settled in?’
‘Sure, anytime.’
‘I’m going down to visit my folks in Durham, day after tomorrow. I’ll be there two weeks. When I get back?’
Gabbie shrugged. ‘Okay.’
‘Well then. As I said, it’s been a pleasure. I do look forward to the next time.’
Phil rose and shook Jack’s hand. ‘Don’t be a stranger,’ offered Gloria as Jack left through the back door. Returning to her husband’s side, she said, ‘So, Gabbie. Things don’t seem quite so bad, do they?’
Gabbie sighed. ‘Oh, he’s definitely a hunk; Ducky Summers would say, “He’s got buns worth dying for”. But how am I going to keep from losing my lunch when he shows up with some retard rockhead, cold-blood farm horse? Ugh!’
Gloria smiled. ‘Let’s unpack another crate, then I’ll chase the boys to bed.’
Gabbie nodded resigned agreement, and Phil led her out of the kitchen. Gloria followed, but as she started to leave the kitchen she was struck by a sudden feeling of being watched, as if unfriendly eyes had fastened upon her. She turned abruptly and for an instant thought she saw something at one of the windows. Moving her head, she saw flickering changes in the light of the kitchen bulb as it reflected off imperfections in the glass. With a slight sense of uneasiness, Gloria left the kitchen.
Sean tried to settle deeply into the bunk bed. The smells were new to him. Old feather pillows had been dug out of a closet when it was discovered the boy’s familiar ones hadn’t been where they were expected to be, and despite the clean pillowcases, they had an ancient, musty odour. And the house made strange sounds. Creaks and groans could be faintly heard; odd clutters and whispers made by creatures of darkness had Sean burrowing deeply below the heavy comforter, peeking out over the edge, afraid to relax his vigil for an instant.
‘Patrick?’ he whispered, to be answered by his brother’s deep breathing. Patrick didn’t share Sean’s fear of the dark. The first night Patrick had tried to bully his brother out of the top bunk – they had both wanted the novel experience of sleeping that high off the ground – but Mom had prevented a fight and Sean had picked the number closer to the one she had been thinking. Now Sean wondered at the whim of chance that put him in the top bed. Everything looked weird from up high.
The moon’s glow came through the window, and the light level rose and fell as clouds crawled slowly across the sky, alternately plunging the room into deep gloom and lightening to what seemed almost daylight. The dancing shadows had an odd pattern Sean had come to recognize.
Outside, an old elm tree rose beside the bedroom, its branches swaying gently in the breeze. When the moon was not obscured, the tree shadows became more distinct, making their
