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Authors: Victoria Holt
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he’s a real ghost who glides about at night or whether they just mean you can’t get away from the memory of him, I don’t know. But it’s a sort of haunting whichever way, isn’t it? But Mother would be angry if she knew I’d mentioned him. Please don’t tell her, Mrs. Verlaine, and forget it, will you?”
She looked so pathetic, pleading with me in this way, that I said I would not mention it and immediately dropped the subject.
Then she said: “It’s clear today. Not clear enough to see the coast of France, but you can see the Goodwin Sands if your eyes are good enough. Well, you can’t exactly see the sands themselves but you can see the wrecks sticking up.” She pointed and I followed the direction which she indicated.
“I can see something that looks like sticks.”
“That’s it…that’s all you can see. It’s the masts of boats which long ago were caught on the sands. You’ve heard about the sands, Mrs. Verlaine. Quicksands…shivering sands…Boats are caught in them and they can’t get off. They feel themselves held in a grip so fierce that nothing will release them…and slowly they begin to sink into the shivering sands.” She looked at me.
“Horrible!” I said.
“Yes, isn’t it? And the masts are always there to remind us. You can see them very easily on a clear day. There’s a lightship out there to warn shipping. You’ll see it flashing at night. But some of them still get caught on the shivering sands.”
I turned away from the window and Alice said: “You’ll want to unpack now. I expect you will be dining with Mother and me. I’ll ask Mother what the arrangements will be. Then I suppose Sir William will send for you. I’ll be back in an hour.”
Quietly she slipped out of the room. I started to unpack, my thoughts flitting from Mrs. Lincroft to her daughter, to Allegra who was very likely going to give me trouble, to pale Edith who was Napier’s bride and of the ghost of Beau who had had an accident and who was believed by some to haunt the place…in one way or another.
I listened to the water being tossed against the cliffs and in my mind’s eye I saw those masts protruding from the treacherous sands.
In fifteen minutes, having washed in the powder room and unpacked my belongings, I was ready for the summons; I walked about my room examining the details. The cloth which lined the walls was of yellow brocade and must have been there for years for it was a little faded in places; the arched alcove, the rugs on the parquet floor, the sconces in the wall in which stood candles. Then I went to the window and looked out across the gardens to the copse and the sea. I looked for the masts of those sunken ships and could not see them.
I had nearly three quarters of an hour to wait so I decided I would have a look at the gardens. I was sure to be back in my room within the hour.
I put on a coat and found my way down to the hall and out into the upper courtyard. Passing under an archway I descended a flight of stone steps and before me was a terrace leading to lawns bordered with flowers which I guessed would be glorious in the late spring and summer. Rock plants grew in the stone-clumps of white arabis and blue aubrietia. The effect was charming.
There were no trees except stubby yews which looked as though they had stood where they did for centuries; but the shrubs were numerous. At the moment the only blooms were the yellow forsythia flowers, the color of sunshine, I thought—but this was because it was early spring, and again I imagined the riot of color there would be later.
I made my way through the shrubs and came to a stone archway over which a green plant was creeping. I passed under the arch and was in a walled garden—a quadrangle—cobbled, with two wooden seats facing each other across a water lily pond. It was charming and I pictured myself coming here during the hot summer weather in between lessons. I imagined I should have some spare time for I was
She looked so pathetic, pleading with me in this way, that I said I would not mention it and immediately dropped the subject.
Then she said: “It’s clear today. Not clear enough to see the coast of France, but you can see the Goodwin Sands if your eyes are good enough. Well, you can’t exactly see the sands themselves but you can see the wrecks sticking up.” She pointed and I followed the direction which she indicated.
“I can see something that looks like sticks.”
“That’s it…that’s all you can see. It’s the masts of boats which long ago were caught on the sands. You’ve heard about the sands, Mrs. Verlaine. Quicksands…shivering sands…Boats are caught in them and they can’t get off. They feel themselves held in a grip so fierce that nothing will release them…and slowly they begin to sink into the shivering sands.” She looked at me.
“Horrible!” I said.
“Yes, isn’t it? And the masts are always there to remind us. You can see them very easily on a clear day. There’s a lightship out there to warn shipping. You’ll see it flashing at night. But some of them still get caught on the shivering sands.”
I turned away from the window and Alice said: “You’ll want to unpack now. I expect you will be dining with Mother and me. I’ll ask Mother what the arrangements will be. Then I suppose Sir William will send for you. I’ll be back in an hour.”
Quietly she slipped out of the room. I started to unpack, my thoughts flitting from Mrs. Lincroft to her daughter, to Allegra who was very likely going to give me trouble, to pale Edith who was Napier’s bride and of the ghost of Beau who had had an accident and who was believed by some to haunt the place…in one way or another.
I listened to the water being tossed against the cliffs and in my mind’s eye I saw those masts protruding from the treacherous sands.
In fifteen minutes, having washed in the powder room and unpacked my belongings, I was ready for the summons; I walked about my room examining the details. The cloth which lined the walls was of yellow brocade and must have been there for years for it was a little faded in places; the arched alcove, the rugs on the parquet floor, the sconces in the wall in which stood candles. Then I went to the window and looked out across the gardens to the copse and the sea. I looked for the masts of those sunken ships and could not see them.
I had nearly three quarters of an hour to wait so I decided I would have a look at the gardens. I was sure to be back in my room within the hour.
I put on a coat and found my way down to the hall and out into the upper courtyard. Passing under an archway I descended a flight of stone steps and before me was a terrace leading to lawns bordered with flowers which I guessed would be glorious in the late spring and summer. Rock plants grew in the stone-clumps of white arabis and blue aubrietia. The effect was charming.
There were no trees except stubby yews which looked as though they had stood where they did for centuries; but the shrubs were numerous. At the moment the only blooms were the yellow forsythia flowers, the color of sunshine, I thought—but this was because it was early spring, and again I imagined the riot of color there would be later.
I made my way through the shrubs and came to a stone archway over which a green plant was creeping. I passed under the arch and was in a walled garden—a quadrangle—cobbled, with two wooden seats facing each other across a water lily pond. It was charming and I pictured myself coming here during the hot summer weather in between lessons. I imagined I should have some spare time for I was
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