The Mercer's House (Northern Gothic Book 1) Read Free

some of their old stuff and as soon as I saw it I knew I had to have it. Got it quite cheap, as well—from my point of view, anyway. I’d have paid double what they wanted. All the furniture in that room is from there. It’s a shame they had to sell it, really. It’s a beautiful old place and the stuff looked much better there—I mean, that’s where it was bought for originally—but I was hardly going to turn it down if they wanted to sell, was I?’
    His face had become animated as he spoke, and Zanna smiled at his enthusiasm.
    ‘It’s a house near here, is it?’ she said, and as she did she already had the feeling she knew which one.
    Joe nodded.
    ‘Yes. I don’t know if you’ve seen it. It’s the one along there on the headland. The Mercer’s House, they call it.’
    ‘I know the one you mean,’ she said. ‘I saw it just now. It’s a lovely old house. It looked a bit lonely, though, stuck out there on its own.’
    ‘It does, doesn’t it?’ he agreed. ‘I always think it looks like it’s staring out to sea, waiting for something.’ He lowered his voice humorously. ‘Don’t tell Ewan I said that, though, or he’ll think I’ve gone soft.’
    ‘I won’t. And for the record, I agree with you,’ said Zanna. ‘It does look like it’s waiting for something. Who lives there, do you know?’
    ‘The Devereuxes,’ said Joe. ‘They’re brothers. Twins, I think. Lived there for years. Alexander Devereux owns the place. We only came here three years ago, but from what people say I gather he used to have plenty of money until his wife divorced him and took him for as much as she could get. Then his brother had a stroke a couple of years ago and needs care. Alexander pays for that. I assume that’s why they needed to sell all the stuff.’
    ‘Alexander,’ said Zanna thoughtfully. Alexander Devereux was the man she had come to see. ‘What’s he like? He must be fond of his brother to pay for his care. That sort of thing doesn’t come cheap.’
    ‘No,’ agreed Joe. ‘He’s a good bloke. Friendly. Corbin’s a bit quieter—less easy to get to know. We don’t really see him much now, though. He can’t walk far any more. He mostly gets about in a wheelchair.’
    ‘I saw a young man when I was along there earlier,’ said Zanna. ‘He went into the house.’
    ‘Maybe it was Will Devereux,’ said Joe. ‘Alexander’s son. Is he here, then? I’ll give him a call.’
    ‘Alexander’s son?’ said Zanna with sudden interest. Did she have a cousin? ‘You said something about a divorce. Is he the only child?’
    ‘Far as I know,’ said Joe. ‘His mother’s an interior designer and she was supposed to be bringing me some fabric samples for the lounge. Maybe he’s got them.’
    This was not Helen, thought Zanna. Will Devereux was not her cousin, then.
    ‘Was Alexander only married once?’ she said.
    ‘I think so. Why?’ said Joe.
    ‘No reason,’ said Zanna. ‘I’m just interested, that’s all. Nosy, you know. Female.’
    ‘Women,’ he said with a smile. ‘So what about this curry?’
    Zanna ordered her food and went to sit down. Joe had been here only a few years, he said, so he couldn’t really be expected to know anything about Helen, who had presumably left long before he came to the area. As she waited for the curry to arrive, she took out the photo from her little embroidered shoulder bag and looked at it. The colours had faded to a washed-out orange, but her father was still quite recognizable, with his thin mouth and characteristic tilt to the chin. He looked to be in his early twenties, while the girl next to him was no more than fifteen or sixteen—a beauty, even in the fashions of those days, with brown hair framing a heart-shaped face, and large, dark eyes. The two of them were sitting on a fence, laughing at the camera, as if sharing a joke with the invisible photographer. On the back of the photo, someone had written ‘Jonathan and Helen, Norfolk, 1970.’
    Zanna