“If he ever existed, sure, why not? There are a few hides around the house. We use a couple of them in the haunted house tour. There’s a fake chimney my father discovered when he tried to light a fire in the grate and the room smoked up, and a tiny one in a section of ceiling that was lowered just enough so a person could lie down in it. That one’s legit creepy. Like a coffin.”
“Ugh. The thought of being stuck somewhere where you can’t sit up…”
“I’m guessing it was only used when the priest hunters came knocking.”
“Priest hunters?”
“They’d tear houses apart looking for concealed spaces and then drag the poor bloke away to be executed. I choose to believe that whoever hid here remained safe. No one alive knows this exists—well, Eddie did, but I don’t think he recalls. Entire books have been written on the architecture of the abbey thathaven’t mentioned it, so safe to say its existence has been lost to history.” He reached across her and pushed another panel, lifting it for a second before he lowered it back. “And bonus—an en-suite bathroom! Not that it was a bathroom back then, just a useful second exit, I guess. But don’t flush, or run the taps. The plumbing sounds like a flash flood.”
Amelia snuggled up against Tom’s side. There wasn’t a lot of choice, given the room’s dimensions. He slung an arm around her. “Was the secret passageway behind the closet also for priests?”
“Quite the opposite. The story goes that it was built to sneak the lover of a former countess in and out of her chambers. It was later used by servants. It links a few rooms, these days.”
“Like Clue, the board game.”
“How they built entire internal brick walls without her husband noticing, I have no idea.”
“Perhaps he was busy hiding his own affairs.”
“Or not. Even kings didn’t bother to hide their mistresses, half the time. Charles II had maybe twenty of them, and loads of children. It was treasonous for the queen to have an affair, though.”
“So maybe the countess had to hide her lover while the earl’s was common knowledge.”
“There are people in the village who claim to be descended from some dodgy Earl of Hawthorne or another, and they’re probably right. But the countess would have been taking an enormous risk.”
“People starved of love in a relationship will seek it elsewhere, like how plants grow toward sunlight.” Like herself, yearning for a damn hug. “The success rate for marriages in those days must have been very low, if you measure success in whether you can stand being in the same room as your spouse.”
“They probably didn’t expect much either, until the likes of Austen put crazy ideas into their heads.” Tom began rhythmically smoothing his palm down her back like he was stroking a cat, and she sure as hell felt like purring. Yet another whiplash from one extreme emotional state to another. “These days we use the secret passageway for the haunted house tours—weused touse it. It’s windowless, narrow, damp. We have fake cobwebs and other creepy stuff hanging from the ceiling, and sound effects. All done on a budget, but it works.”
He took a deep breath, and Amelia soaked up the feeling of his torso expanding. What a relief to be in a safe space, talking shit again. To be in his arms. She ached for him, even with him right there. “I can’t believe people pay you to frighten them. But then, I don’t understand horror movies, either. Terror is the worst feeling—why willingly subject yourself to it?”
“I did some reading up about that when we were setting up the haunted house experience. People get surges of adrenaline, dopamine, endorphins from experiences like that. They’re addictive, primal. Some people get a natural high.”
“Yeah, not me. Not even before the robbery. Definitely not now. Though I never used to be paranoid about noises in the night. I used to be all, ‘It’s just the house exhaling,’ or ‘It’s the raccoons’ or ‘the wind.’ But now, every little noise… And every time I get a jump-scare, it takes me right back to that moment I woke and saw the guy at the end of my bed, and then the hand came over my mouth.” She shuddered, and Tom wrapped both arms around her. He was warm and solid and oh-so reassuring, and she would damn well take what he was offering. Imagine having this kind of support every day, not just when you were running for your life? Hugs on demand, for the rest of your days.
One thing about this last day or two—it had clarified what she wanted in a relationship. Not that she could compare six years with Rory to the delicious connection she felt with Tom. Thatwasn’t fair to Rory. But it was still a eureka moment about what a relationship could—should—feel like. This, but permanent. And in safer circumstances. It wasn’tlove, of course, not this soon. But it was an eye-opener.
Poor Rory. He was hurting too, of course, and their break-up wasn’t his fault, either. The robbery had simply revealed them to be not what the other needed. But maybe the connection she felt with Tom was a sign that the impossible dream wasn’t that impossible. Sure, the intensity would inevitably wear off over time, but that was why the foundation needed to be strong. And yes, she’d thought Rory was The One when they’d met, but she was older and wiser now—and more broken. She knew more of what she wanted. And she could simply enjoy this gorgeous feeling with Tom, even under these circumstances, without having to worry about whether their relationship would last. She was also very much enjoying the tingly sensation of her body defrosting.
“Could their drone pick up our body heat, here?” she said.
“Depends how much body heat you’re planning to create. But no, it can’t see through walls.”
Amelia gazed up at the window, imagining a terrified priest looking at the same window five hundred years earlier. “So many lives lived in this house. I know that every piece of dirt we stand on has the footprints of countless others beneath us, but there’s something about an old house.”
“It’s probably easier for us to imagine those former lives when they leave behind something tangible. A place they stood in. Gives us a frame to picture them in.” He wriggled a little to get into a more comfortable position, giving her an excuse to dig in closer, nestling her head into the crook of his neck. Her body was aching in all sorts of places. And at least half of the aches were good aches.
“How did you find this room?”
“I noticed the window outside and couldn’t figure out what it corresponded to. There are an awful lot of windows. So, I went poking around. I was about thirteen. My father used to tell stories about the other priest holes, but he never mentioned this one, and I never told him about it. This was mine and Eddie’s indoor tree hut. There are probably still Avengers comics stashed under the old altar in the corner.”
“What’s your brother like, now?”
She felt Tom’s Adam’s apple dip as he swallowed. She half-expected him to deflect, but he softly sighed and started speaking. “It’s like I’ve had two different brothers. The one I grew up with, and the one I know now. He’s okay, physically, but he has limited brain function and is non-verbal. My mother employs round-the-clock nurses. She’ll complain bitterly but she won’t hear of putting him in a home. But you don’t want to know all the messy details of my family.”
“I actually do. I’d like to talk about anything that isn’t our current predicament. But only if you want to share.”
Another pause, and again she suspected he’d back away. “What would you like to know?”
