The Boat House by Pamela Oldfield Page A

But to return to your question, Leonora did mention the boat house once or twice. It seemed to fascinate her although she didn’t think it was haunted. She talked about the Henley regatta and was eager to go out on the river in a punt but she seemed to have the impression that the boat house was unsafe in some way. She was hoping . . .’
    He broke off as Mrs Matlowe suddenly groaned. Her head was bent so that her face was hidden but it was immediately obvious to Marianne that she was in some distress.
    Marianne said, ‘Mrs Matlowe, are you all right?’
    Mrs Matlowe raised her head. ‘Stop fussing!’ she muttered, her voice a mere croak. Clutching her left arm, she groaned again, her face screwed up with pain. With an obvious struggle she somehow forced herself on to her feet but there was a sheen of perspiration on her skin.
    ‘I’m absolutely fi—’ she began but then the colour drained from her face and she suddenly swayed. Her eyes closed. ‘Neil!’ she gasped and would have fallen if Richard Preston had not caught her in his arms and lifted her on to the sofa.
    A shocked Cook cried, ‘I’ll fetch a glass of water,’ and hurried out of the room.
    Marianne knelt beside her employer, took hold of her hand and felt for a pulse in the wrist. Before she could determine either way, Mrs Matlowe snatched back her hand. ‘Get away from me!’ she mumbled, blinking, one hand to her head. ‘I’m . . . I’m perfectly well. Just a moment’s dizziness and no wonder. All this fuss so long after her disappearance! I have better things to do with my time.’ She threw an accusing look in Preston’s direction and struggled back to a sitting position. ‘Just get on with your questions, Mr Preston, and hurry it up.’
    Cook returned with the water but Mrs Matlowe waved it away.
    There was a moment’s silence while they watched her nervously. She was breathing deeply, trying to regain her composure. And trying, thought Marianne, with a twinge of compassion, to restore her position of dominancy, which had slipped during her fainting spell. She remained sitting, however, so was obviously not confident enough to stand up again.
    Richard Preston cleared his throat. ‘I guess I can’t answer that question, Miss Lefevre – about the boat house being haunted. Why do you ask?’
    ‘Because I glanced in one day out of curiosity and saw a punt floating on the water. At least I thought I did . . .’
    Lorna slipped back into the room unnoticed.
    ‘. . . but it’s very gloomy in there,’ Marianne went on. ‘Last time I looked in the punt was gone.’ She turned to Mrs Matlowe. ‘Could anyone be using the boat house without your knowledge?’
    ‘Quite impossible, Marianne. The outer gates – those that open on to the river – are firmly locked. A bolt on the inside. You have an overactive imagination . . .’ She took a deep breath. ‘Perhaps I should explain that I have a great fear of water and particularly of the boat house. I was only ten when my favourite uncle was drowned during the regatta. His punt overturned at one of the locks and the other boats closed over him. My mother said it was so crowded with boats it was a log jam. His body was washed ashore further down the river the following day.’
    ‘My dear Mrs Matlowe!’ cried Preston, with genuine concern. ‘What a terrible thing to happen!’
    Cook said, ‘Lord help us!’
    ‘I’ve never forgotten the grief . . . and that’s why I didn’t want a punt in the boat house. I have never set foot in a boat since then and I didn’t want anyone else to do so, but as soon as I married, my husband insisted on replacing it. Leonora wanted to go out in the punt with Neil and I couldn’t allow it.’
    Marianne frowned. ‘So what happened to the punt?’
    ‘It was sunk. It became rotten and dangerous and . . . I sank it.’
    After a pregnant silence Mrs Matlowe suddenly forced herself to her feet. ‘I think that’s quite enough in the way of revelations, Mr