Chapter 6 – Finding Mabel [Familiar Feelings]

Joyce watched as Vane’s car turned the corner and began its journey back to London. She stood motionless, not from fear, but from the simple effort of processing what she had just been through. It took more than a few moments to comprehend.

Her life had changed irrevocably, as though the past fifty-three years of her existence had been preparation for this one moment in time. There was no fear or trepidation, only an odd sense of belonging.

That concerned her most.

Why should such a feeling arise in a place both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time?

The moment passed. She shook herself from the thought and turned to the door of the house.

Her house?

The house of her dreams. A place glimpsed through memories that did not entirely belong to this life. Yet now it stood before her as something entirely ordinary.

Illogical.

Yet true.

She tried the key in the lock. It refused to turn.

A memory stirred. Do not push the key in too deeply.

She withdrew it slightly and tried again. The key turned with the sound of a solid old mechanism clacking and cranking the door free. She pressed down the handle and stepped inside.

She removed her coat and hung it, along with her shopping bag, on the hall stand. Another memory surfaced, gentle and certain. Always the hook on the right.

She nodded to herself in quiet approval.

The house was everything she had seen in the dream. Everything she knew, instinctively, that it should be.

A drink was now required. It had been hours since the half-finished cup in the Chelsea tea room. She passed through the living room and into the kitchen at the back.

Such was her connection with the house that there was no sense of awe, nothing that made her stop in her tracks to take it all in. The knowledge of the place was already within her.

True to his word, Vane had stocked the house with food and fuel. The teapot and cups stood in their usual place. A small refrigerator held milk and enough food for dinner and lunch.

She prepared a cup of tea and carried it into the living room, sitting beside the window that overlooked the street.

There were people about now, walking to and fro along the pavement. Every so often someone would glance up, catch her eye, and raise a hand in polite greeting.

None of them approached. They simply passed on, as though allowing her the space to settle.

It all seemed perfectly normal.

And nothing felt threatening.

Yet as Joyce watched them go by, she had the quiet impression that the village was giving her time, as though it knew she had only just come home.

──✿──

The house was warm and welcoming, but Joyce found she could not sit still for long. After finishing her tea, she put her coat back on and stepped out into the evening air to see the village for herself.

Now out in the evening air, she began to walk, letting her feet follow the quiet slope of the street toward the harbour.

The place was both familiar and altered. The line of cottages she remembered had been joined by newer terraces, their brickwork too neat to carry much history. A few shop fronts had changed hands, though the rhythm of the street remained much the same.

Easterwich had grown enough over the years to earn the title of town, though most of the older residents still spoke of it simply as the village.

As she continued downhill, the smell of salt reached her before the water itself, carried on the slow breath of the tide.

At the last house she could now see the Channel in the distance, leaden beneath the evening sky, the waves breaking in pale lines before they reached the shore.

She took the steps down to the quayside and walked along the promenade, passing the fishermen’s huts and grounded boats until she found a clear view along the pavement.

In the distance a dark figure on a bicycle approached. As he drew nearer she recognised the uniform of a policeman, the unmistakable helmet catching the fading light.

A thought of coincidence drifted into her mind, then quietly corrected itself for the nature of the town.

She gave a wry smile and turned back to the sea, resting her hands on the rail and allowing the copper to approach.

The policeman stopped a little way before her, dismounted, and lent the bicycle against the rail. He walked over and stood beside her. Without a word he rested his arms on the railing and looked out to sea.

“Sergeant Spragg, I presume,” Joyce said calmly.

“Joyce. So good to meet you,” he replied with a smile, still looking out at the water.

Both of them let their thoughts drift out across the sea toward the horizon. For several minutes neither spoke.

“A place of beauty,” he said at last. “We are blessed to be here, and to return time and time again.”

There was conviction in his voice, and something else Joyce was only beginning to recognise.

“Have you known me before?” she asked.

“More than once, in different forms. Those personas will resurface the longer you are here. Don’t force them forward. They will appear when you are ready for them.”

She took a deep breath of the sea air and considered his words. For a few moments she remained still, letting thought and instinct find their balance. Then she turned slowly to Spragg.

“Joyce Turner,” she said, offering her hand.

He smiled in a way she remembered.

“Raymond Spragg, at your service, ma’am,” he said, taking her hand.

──✿──

They had made their introductions, talked about careers, but when pushed Raymond would not offer any more insights to the town. Joyce sensed – yes sensed, she thought – that the Sergeant was not avoiding the questions, rather that she find out for herself. She left well alone.

As they walked back to town, they chatted and Joyce felt comfortable in his presence. He was now a new aquantence, yet he felt like more. Half glimpsed memories of him with her – vauge – yet growing stronger all the time. She pulled herself out of the internal dialogue, asking something he would give a definate reply to.

“When do I get to see Lady Hazelgrove.” She inquired.

“Mabel,” he replied, “she insists on not being treated like nobility. Tomorrow, at noon. I will pick you up from your house around 11:45. The manor house is just outside the town. She asks that you wear your uniform. We’ve had a new one made, based on your old fitting. Just a change of badges. You’ll find it hanging in you bedroom wardrobe.”