Free Nemesis by Louise Marley

had walked the short distance to the Old Rectory that she remembered.

    She had not been the one to leave the gate open.

10
     
    Natalie drove away from her apartment at a speed that was excessive, even for her. As the quayside diminished in her rear view mirror, she caught sight of her own reflection, white-faced and angry. The BMW shot around the war memorial at the top of the hill, scarcely on two wheels. She hit the straight and accelerated. The stone gateway of Hurst Castle was ahead of her, closer with every second. As the car bumped over a pothole, she finally appreciated her fury was likely to get her killed and slammed on the brakes. The BMW went into a short skid and ended up on the grass verge, perfectly parallel to the castle wall. She abandoned the car and walked through the huge stone gateway.
    In the fading light the Lodge resembled something imagined by Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, and was exactly as she remembered - but then a building of this age and history was not going to be allowed to rot. The only mystery was why it had taken Clare Vyne so long to save it from neglect.
    The fence had been replaced by new wood, creosoted dark-brown and stretching along the length of the garden. The grass had been cut, although it still had the shaggy appearance of a meadow rather than a lawn. The slabs of stone that led to the front door had been jet-sprayed to remove the decades of grime. She’d never seen them that pale colour before and, for the first time, she made the connection with the ruined medieval chapel beside the castle. It was clear where the slabs had originated from.
    She nudged open the gate with her foot and walked up the path. The two little windows tucked beneath the thatch followed her progress like malevolent eyes. As a child this had always given her the creeps. As an adult it was hard to shake off the sensation that she was being watched.
    The scent of fresh paint and brick dust still lingered in the air. Up close, the diamond paned windows gleamed and the brass letterbox shone. She traced its outline with her finger. When she had been small she had thought it a mouth, ready to bite off an unwary finger.
    The flat-roofed porch, built by her father, had been demolished but his trellis still framed the door. The climbing rose was long gone but another could always be planted in its place. Natalie glanced up at the window to her old bedroom. Had it really been twelve years since she’d left to go to college? She began to feel overwhelmed with memories. The night she’d climbed out of her window to go to the fair. The night she’d met Geraint Llewellyn. The night her sister had died. The whole chain of events had started here.
    She was still holding her keys in her hand. Her car key, her apartment keys and three much older keys she could never bring herself to throw away. She slotted one of these into the lock - and was disconcerted to find it still fitted.
    After a few moments she pulled the key out and dropped the bunch back into her pocket. What the hell was she doing? Hoping to lay old ghosts? It wasn’t going to happen. Nothing had changed. The place radiated evil; she could almost touch it. She took a step back. What had she been thinking?
    Yet framed by the golden glow of the autumn forest, it became an ordinary cottage again - picture-book pretty, nothing sinister at all.
    Apparently appearances could be deceptive.
    “I’m not coming back,” she said out loud. Then, with more force, “I’m not coming back, do you hear me?” Feeling the confidence surge through her, instead of returning to her car she let her feet take her across the castle drive and into the woods, following a familiar path through the trees.
    She was not wearing the best footwear for an outdoor hike but the weather had been dry today. The earth was soft but not too muddy, and gave way to rough-hewn cobblestones, then red bricks arranged in a herringbone pattern. At this point she stopped watching her feet and looked