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  ‘That’s OK,’ Matt assured her. ‘I’ll be all right. It’s lovely here. And thank you for letting me stay.’

  ‘Oh, my pleasure. Now, you must be hungry – I know it’s early for lunch, but I also know what growing boys are like with food.’ She led the way back down the narrow staircase and into the kitchen – which seemed to be the biggest room in the house. ‘I need to organise lunch up at the manor, and I have a lot to do this afternoon. So I’ll get you a sandwich or something and then leave you to unpack and explore. Help yourself to anything you need. My home is your home.’ She smiled, and it made Matt feel welcome and wanted, and it made Aunt Jane look suddenly younger.

  ‘So what do you do, Aunt Jane? For Mr Venture? And who is he anyway?’ Matt asked between bites of his ham sandwich. Aunt Jane had given him a bowl of salad too – lettuce and slices of cucumber and small tomatoes. He left that.

  ‘I suppose I’m a sort of estate manager and personal assistant,’ she told him. ‘Mr Venture is a businessman and an academic. He’ll be off to meetings and visiting archives at a moment’s notice. He leaves it to me to keep the day-to-day things going while he’s away and to organise his time and run the place when he’s actually here.’

  ‘So, he’s a bit like Dad?’ Matt said. ‘Researching and stuff.’

  ‘A bit.’ She busied herself at the sink. ‘Their interests stem from rather different sources, but I suppose so.’

  ‘And you and Dad grew up here. In the village, I mean?’

  ‘Yes. The village is further down the road, on the west side of the estate, so I don’t suppose you drove through it. The church is actually on estate land though.’ She turned back to face him. ‘So many questions.’ The light was behind her, so she was just a dark silhouette, but Matt thought she sounded sad and he wondered why.

  ‘Why did you stay?’ he asked.

  ‘Here? In the village?’

  He nodded. ‘Dad left, but you stayed.’

  ‘I had to look after our mother. Your father got interested in archaeology and was off studying. Then he got the job at the university, met your mother … I just never felt the need to move on, I suppose. Everything I wanted was here.’ She sat down at the table beside him. ‘Still is.’

  ‘So you’re happy here?’

  She smiled thinly. ‘Oh yes. Not a lot to do for young people like you. Your father and I used to play in the woods behind this cottage. We had the run of the estate, made friends … They were good times,’ she said quietly. ‘But things move on, change, come to an end. It’s different now, and yet it’s the same. Perhaps the world has moved on and I haven’t really accepted the change. But I keep busy and I enjoy my work, and Julius is …’ She shrugged. ‘Well, he’s Julius.’

  ‘He’s a good man to work for?’

  She stood up, the chair scraping back across the stone floor. ‘The best. I couldn’t work for anyone else, not now.’ She laughed, but Matt got the impression it was for his benefit. ‘Must be getting set in my ways in my old age.’

  ‘You’re not old,’ Matt told her. ‘Well, not really.’

  ‘No,’ she replied. ‘No, I’m not. But we’re none of us as young as we were, are we?’

  It was a clear, crisp day – cold, despite being July, and Matt’s misty breath hung for a moment in the air. Aunt Jane had shown him a map of the estate, and he headed through the woods towards the village. Before long, he saw the shape of the church tower through the trees, and he headed towards that.

  The church looked older than the manor house. The graveyard surrounding it was well kept, the grass cut and the borders edged. He walked all round the church, and stood at the main gate looking out onto the village green, and the houses arranged round it.

  Dad and Aunt Jane must have lived on or near the green, he guessed, for them to play in the grounds of the manor house. It seemed strange that his father had swapped one tiny village for a different one. Did he resent the new developments here? Had he decided he needed to get away? Or was it just the luck of things – his academic work, marrying Mum and then getting divorced? Was it a deliberate decision or just how things had worked out?

  Thoughts of his father were making Matt sullen and anxious again. Where was Dad? Had he sent Matt to Aunt Jane just so he was with an adult, or was he actually supposed to be doing something to help? Did Dad need help – after all, he’d managed to send Matt the letter and the message. What, if anything, should he tell Aunt Jane of his worries? She seemed to think Dad had just wandered off, absent-minded, the way he did. Letting her continue to think that helped Matt to convince himself it might even be true.

  Rather than explore the village, Matt decided to get back to the cottage. Perhaps Aunt Jane would be back and he could talk to her, share his worries. There was a hint of rain in the air and the breeze was getting up. He watched the leaves spiralling round the gravestones, whipped up and spun round in patterns. Matt retraced his path through the churchyard and out of the gate that led back into the Venture estate. There was the remains of a path outside the gate, winding up past the woodland and round to the manor house. It was overgrown and all but reclaimed by the grass, but the line of it was just about visible. Matt followed the path round.

  After a few minutes, the rain got heavier and he decided he’d rather be in the shelter of the trees. So Matt left the narrow path and set off back through the woods. He wasn’t sure he was aiming for the cottage, but he knew if he kept going in a straight line he’d eventually reach the main driveway. Then he could follow that back down to Aunt Jane’s.

  It was eerie in the woods. The wind sounded like someone moaning or crying. Leaves drifted and curled and branches dipped and swayed. The sky had clouded over and was a uniform grey, so it was like twilight among the trees. Rain was blowing in his face now. It was a fine rain that was almost a mist, like he was walking through his own breath. He blinked and peered into the gloom ahead.

  There was a clearing, an open area near the edge of the wood. You could stand here, Matt realised, hidden in the trees but with a good view across the driveway and the lawns up to the manor house. It was obviously a deliberate feature, as there was a large stone bench positioned to give the best view. It was old, cracked and weathered, and with moss growing over the stone supports. The bench was curved gently, so sitting on it must be like being in the front row of an amphitheatre, watching over the estate like it was a play being acted out in front of you. The best place to sit would be in the middle of the bench.

  Exactly where the girl was sitting.

  She was so still that Matt didn’t see her at first. And when he did he wondered if she was a statue. But while everything round her was dull grey and brown, she was wearing a bright red coat. Her long black hair was glistening with the moisture of the fine rain. When she turned to look at Matt, he saw that her eyes were a startling, unexpected blue.

  ‘You must be Matt,’ she said. ‘Jane said you were coming. Why don’t you join me?’

  She talked like a grown-up, but she didn’t look any older than Matt. ‘Nice to be famous,’ he said, sitting down further along the bench. It was cold and damp and clammy through his trousers.

  ‘Jane asked Father for a couple of hours off to meet you. I overheard.’

  ‘Father?’

  She had a strange half-smile. In anyone else, Matt might have found it mocking, but somehow he got the impression it was just how she was – amused and yet cynical; optimistic but not naïve.

  ‘Jane works for my father.’

  ‘Julius Venture. I didn’t know he had a family.’

  ‘Just me.’ She tilted her head to one side as if appraising him, then held out her hand.

  It was a strange gesture, not quite the offer of a handshake and more like she expected him to kiss the back of her hand like in olden times. But Matt took her hand and made an effort at shaking it. She held his hand tight.

  ‘You’re cold,’ she said.

  He tugged his hand free, unsettled. ‘I didn’t catch your name.�
��

  ‘I didn’t tell you my name.’

  Matt waited, but she didn’t add anything, so he said slightly nervously: ‘So, will you? Tell me your name, I mean?’

  She was still half-smiling and her blue eyes seemed to deepen with amusement. ‘Robin,’ she said. ‘Robin Venture. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Matt Stribling.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Now they’d introduced themselves he felt even more awkward. But Robin did not seem the least bit unsettled. Well, Matt thought, she lives here. I’m just a visitor. A joke, probably.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Robin said, ‘I’m not laughing at you, you know.’

  ‘I didn’t think you were,’ he said quickly.

  She turned back to the view. ‘Yes you did. You still do. And I’m not, I promise.’

  ‘All right.’

  ‘It’s nice to have some company. Someone young about the place.’ She turned back to face him. ‘How old are you, anyway? Sixteen?’

  ‘Fifteen,’ he said automatically.

  ‘Not that –’

  ‘Not that it’s any of my business, I know. Just curious, that’s all.’

  ‘So, how old are you? Fifteen?’

  She laughed. It was a musical, light sound in the gloom of the wood. Her hair glistened as she threw her head back. ‘Ladies don’t tell their age,’ she said. ‘But you’re welcome to guess.’

  He said nothing for a while. Then he admitted, ‘I am cold, actually.’

  ‘It’s a cold day,’ she pointed out.

  ‘It’s the wind, I think. It sort of cuts through you, doesn’t it? Especially the ears. And it’s weird.’

  ‘Weird? What is?’

  ‘The wind.’

  She was frowning now, forehead creased and eyes flint-hard. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked, sounding surprisingly stern.

  ‘Nothing. Just the way it blows the leaves round and everything. Like little pockets of air, mini-cyclones. I noticed it in the churchyard. It was the same back at Dad’s – before I came here.’

  She watched him intently for a long time, saying nothing. Then she stood up abruptly. ‘It’s time I went. I’m late for luncheon.’

  ‘Luncheon?’ The archaic word amused him.

  ‘Lunch,’ she corrected herself. The half-smile was back. ‘We’re a bit old-fashioned here, I’m afraid. Jane will tell you. Here she comes.’

  As soon as the girl said her name, Aunt Jane appeared at the edge of the wood. Matt had not seen her coming down the drive, but he supposed that Robin must have a better view from where she was standing in front of the bench.

  The girl turned to meet Aunt Jane as Matt stood up and pulled at his damp trousers to separate them from his skin.

  ‘Hello, Jane, is it lunch time?’

  ‘Yes,’ Jane said levelly. ‘I see you two have met.’

  ‘We were just chatting,’ Matt said cautiously. Aunt Jane’s tone made him feel like he’d done something wrong.

  ‘Matt’s a nice boy,’ Robin said. ‘Arnold must be so proud of him.’

  ‘I’m sure he is, Robin,’ Aunt Jane said. It took Matt a moment to realise that by Arnold she meant his dad. ‘Do you call everyone by their first name?’ he asked.

  ‘Just my friends,’ Robin replied. ‘Matt.’ Her mouth quivered as if she was about to burst into laughter again. But she nodded, and waved, and started through the trees towards the driveway. ‘I’ll see you later,’ she called as she went, without looking back.

  ‘What a strange girl,’ Matt said to Aunt Jane when Robin was out of earshot.

  ‘Yes,’ Jane replied.

  ‘Still, she seems nice enough.’

  Aunt Jane looked at him sadly. ‘Oh Matt,’ she said quietly, and sighed.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing. Just … It’s just that I’d rather you didn’t spend too much time with Robin.’

  She avoided his eyes as she said it. Matt almost laughed, it seemed so out of character for her to be warning him off like this. ‘Afraid if I hang around with Robin then people will call me Batman?’ he joked.

  Aunt Jane forced a laugh. ‘It’s for your own good,’ she said. ‘How many times have you heard that? And yes, Robin’s a lovely girl. But trust me, she’ll bring you nothing but trouble.’

  Without further explanation, she turned and walked back to the driveway, leaving Matt standing in the damp woods with the breeze tugging at his coat.

  Chapter 4

  Matt spent some time looking round the little cottage. He had hoped to find a computer. No chance Aunt Jane would have any decent games for it, but a broadband Internet connection seemed a good bet.

  Aunt Jane had a small study in what was supposed to be the third bedroom. From the cables and wires, Matt guessed Aunt Jane had a laptop, and she’d taken it with her up to the manor house.

  It left Matt with little to do. He inspected Aunt Jane’s shelves for something to read. Agatha Christie seemed the least worst choice. He wasn’t desperately interested in the other titles – books on gardening, accounting, how to manage your personal space, a few ‘ancient mysteries’ books that purported to reveal the secret of the pyramids or the truth of a lost ancient civilisation. And a lot of romantic historical novels with painted covers showing women in big dresses swooning in the arms of men in tight suits.

  • • •

  It didn’t seem likely the village would run to a bookshop or a library, and anyway it was raining more heavily now. Then he remembered that Aunt Jane had mentioned Julius Venture had a library he could use for homework. It wasn’t likely to be the sort of library Matt was interested in, but he might at least have a computer Matt could use. And maybe Robin had some decent books.

  Matt thought again about the way Aunt Jane had been with Robin. Polite, but a bit distant – not like her at all. And then her words to Matt: ‘She’ll bring you nothing but trouble.’ Well, he thought, maybe she’ll bring me something to read or a DVD first. She was a bit weird, but at least she was his age.

  The main door was set within a stone porch jutting out from the middle of the house. Matt welcomed the fact that it sheltered him from the rain. There was an old-fashioned bell-pull – a metal rod down the wall with a handle at the end. But before he could try it, the heavy, dark wooden door swung open.

  ‘I saw you coming up the drive,’ Aunt Jane said. ‘Come on in. I’m sorry, you must be bored silly.’

  ‘Well, a bit,’ Matt admitted.

  The door opened into a large hallway. In fact it was more like a big room. A wide staircase swept up from the back of the hall, with doors either side of it leading deeper into the house. There were other doors at intervals round the hall. Between two of the doors stood a suit of armour. Further along was a low table with a modern cordless telephone on it. It looked out of place amongst the oak panelling and the dark oil paintings hanging on the walls.

  ‘So when do I get to meet Mr Venture?’ Matt asked. He’d almost referred to him as ‘Robin’s dad’ but didn’t think Aunt Jane would be impressed by that.

  ‘Soon,’ she promised. ‘He’s a busy man, but I’m sure he’ll want to meet you too.’

  ‘Great,’ Matt said. Maybe when he met Julius Venture, he’d have some idea why Dad thought he could help – if that was what Dad had really meant.

  ‘I’m rather busy this afternoon,’ Aunt Jane told him. ‘But I’m sure Julius won’t mind if you look round. There’s lots to see. He has quite a collection.’

  ‘A collection of what?’ Matt wondered.

  Aunt Jane shrugged as if the answer was obvious. ‘Everything.’

  ‘I was hoping to look in the library,’ Matt told her. ‘Or maybe use a computer.’

  ‘There are computers in the library.’ She smiled. ‘It isn’t all stuffy and old-fashioned like this.’ She tapped the suit of armour as she led him past the staircase and to one of the doors. It was standing open, revealing a panelled corridor beyond.

  ‘Down here?’

  ‘The library is at the end of the corridor. You won
’t miss it. I have an office on the first floor. Up the stairs, turn right and it’s the second door on the left.’

  ‘And you’re busy.’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ he assured her. ‘Down here?’

  She nodded, still smiling. Maybe she was anticipating his reaction to the library when he finally got there. Or maybe she was making up for being so short with him earlier.

  ‘Is Robin around?’ Matt asked, as much to see her reaction as anything.

  Aunt Jane’s smile flickered, but she kept it pretty much in place. ‘I think Robin’s busy,’ she said. Then more quietly: ‘I meant what I told you. But I know you won’t listen. Boys your age never do, do they?’ She sighed. ‘Anyway, I shouldn’t interfere, I know. Oh, and the password for the computer is secret.’

  He was puzzled. ‘Passwords usually are.’

  She smiled – properly this time. ‘You’ll work it out, if I know you. Your mother always said you’d follow in her footsteps not your father’s. Goodness me, I hope she’s right.’

  There were little spotlights set into the ornate plaster ceiling of the corridor – another strange juxtaposition of the new and the old. There were doors set into the panelled walls. They were so similar in design to the panels that Matt only knew they were there because of the handles and keyholes. They were all closed, and he didn’t try to open any. He made his way slowly along, pausing to look at the pictures. Some were framed documents including several old maps, and an engraving of the opening of the Great Exhibition in the Crystal Palace in 1851. There were a couple of small portraits, and like the ones in the entrance hall, they showed people with striking dark hair and blue eyes. A family trait, Matt decided remembering Robin’s distinctive looks.

  One was different though. Standing on a narrow table midway along the corridor was a small framed portrait. The delicate brushwork depicted a woman with fair hair and green eyes. Her hair was arranged in curls on top of her head and the picture had faded with age. There was a name at the bottom of the picture in a little white plate painted into the foreground: Elizabeth Venture. Another ancestor, but without the same family looks. Maybe she’d married into the family.