The Darkest Summer

  The Darkest Summer

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  A Letter From Ella

  Acknowledgements

  Books by Ella Drummond

  Copyright

  The Darkest Summer

  Ella Drummond

  To my mum, with love.

  Chapter One

  2018 – Oakwold, New Forest

  Sera

  ‘Sera,’ Mum shouted, through my half-awake state. ‘Hazel’s old farm is on fire.’

  I threw back my duvet. Mum was an actress and had a tendency toward the dramatic.

  ‘Are you sure?’ I whispered, straining to hear if her theatrics had woken my four-year-old daughter, Katie.

  ‘Of course I am,’ she snapped, waving me towards her bedroom. I followed her to the large window overlooking the back of the house. ‘Look.’

  We peered at the orangey glow. Until tonight, there had been little excitement in our lives since I’d returned to live back at Mum’s with Katie after my husband Marcus’ unexpected death three years previously.

  ‘It is a fire, isn’t it?’ Mum asked, a tremor in her voice.

  ‘I’m going to see if there’s anything I can do to help.’

  ‘It could be dangerous. Anyway, I’ve already called the fire brigade. They shouldn’t be long.’

  Not wishing to argue, but unable to simply watch and do nothing, I said, ‘I have to go and see if there’s anything I can do. The new farmer lives there alone.’

  ‘Do you even know the man?’ A fearful glint appeared in her eyes.

  ‘Mum, I’m twenty-seven.’ She opened her mouth to argue, but I added, ‘And I’m going to the farm. Now.’

  ‘Fine, but you’re not going alone. Paul can come with you.’

  As Mum’s boyfriend and I drove closer to the farm the smell of smoke increased until I could taste it. My heart pounded. I wasn’t feeling nearly as brave as I had done watching from the safety of my mother’s bathroom. Paul and I stared open-mouthed. I had never been this close to a fire this size before. I squinted as the flames lit up the area like a massive orange spotlight. I wasn’t sure how much help we would be, but some help was better than none.

  I raced through the high stone pillars either side of the farm entrance. From what I could tell, the ancient barn was on fire. It was devastating seeing a beloved place from my childhood going up in flames. I parked on a grassy area and we got out of the car. The intensity of the heat slammed into us as we ran into the yard.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Paul shouted, his eyes wide with shock at the reality of the scene close-up.

  ‘Hello.’ I battled to make myself heard over the sound of screaming timbers as the flames consumed them. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Over there.’ Paul pointed at the farmer. I could see the man was limping badly as he stepped forwards, his attention focused on spraying water from an almost useless hose.

  ‘Any animals?’ I asked, running up to him.

  Startled, his head turned sharply to stare at Paul and me. I had to force myself not to react to the damage to one side of his tanned face. It was old scarring from a previous injury. I suspected he was in his late thirties.

  ‘No,’ he replied, wiping his forehead with the back of one hand, brushing sweat across his soot-smeared face. The tension in his expression relaxed a little and I knew we’d done the right thing coming here. He nodded his head in the direction of the field to the side of the house. ‘I take the animals out,’ he said with an obvious French accent. My dog, Patti, she is up there also.’

  I stared up at the inferno. ‘What can we do to help?’

  ‘I have one more hose at the back of the house, you can attach it there.’ He indicated a standpipe. ‘I must control the fire.’

  Paul hurried to do as he’d been asked. Doing my best to avoid the farmer’s devastated expression, I took the hose from him and pointed it at the flame-engulfed timbers.

  ‘My mother phoned the fire brigade,’ I said, hoping this information would comfort him. ‘They should be here soon.’

  He limped to the side of the barn.

  Aware I was doing very little to help, I carried on pointing the hose at the flames. Paul joined me, dragging the second hose around the side of the farmhouse and spraying water against the barn walls.

  The farmer returned. He gazed across the yard, confusion and misery etched on his distorted face. I couldn’t help wondering what had happened to him to damage him so cruelly. I presumed it must have been an incident when he was in the army, if the village gossip about him was true.

  I pushed the thought away and concentrated on what I was doing. He grabbed a metal bucket and filled it from the standpipe in the yard. Running as close to the barn as he could, he threw the water onto the fire. Our pathetic efforts to quell the flames were pointless, but I supposed it made him feel as if he was doing something.

  The flames were darting up into the night sky and I spotted the paint on the shutters of his farmhouse bubbling in places. Desperate, I turned my hose to the side of the house nearest the barn and sprayed it with water, hoping to cool it before that too began burning. He didn’t need to lose his home as well as his livelihood.

  ‘Oh, hell,’ I groaned, spotting that the window I was aiming near was open. ‘I’ll go and close those windows,’ I shouted, coughing when the wind changed direction and I breathed in too much woody smoke.

  He looked horrified at my request. ‘No, it is much too dangerous. I will go.’

  He dropped his bucket and hurried as quickly as he could into the house. It would have been far quicker to let me run inside and do it, but I sensed he was more concerned about what I might see inside his house rather than my safety. I kept my suspicions to myself. It was his house, after all, and he could play this whichever way he chose. Within a short time, the windows were slammed shut and he came back out to join me.

  ‘They’re coming,’ Paul bellowed, pointing out towards the main road. He looked as relieved as I felt to hear the clanging bells from the fire engine.

  Thankfully, it hadn’t taken them long to get here. ‘Thank you for coming tonight, and to your mother for her help,’ he said, hurrying to greet the firemen.

  Paul and I stepped back to let them do their job. We stood silently by the gnarled lilac and apple trees that had grown so entwined that it was almost impossible to imagine them as individual trees.

  The large fire engine emerged carefully between the stone pillars into the middle of the yard. The firemen leapt out and immediately began unrolling hoses. Seconds later gallons of water coursed down onto the flames slowly bringing them under control.<
br />
  I yawned, exhausted from the shock of what we had witnessed. The farmer grabbed hold of me, jerking me backwards. I shrieked in surprise, just as ancient timbers screeched and crashed to the ground nearby. Stunned, I watched as first one and then all the barn walls followed suit. It was obvious that there wasn’t much left to save of this once beautiful building. The thought saddened me.

  He let go of me and went to join the firemen. I watched him limp painfully away, sad that he should be going through such a dreadful experience. He was slightly stooped on one side, but still about six feet in height. I realised that this wasn’t the first terrible thing to have happened to him.

  Chapter Two

  2018 – Oakwold, New Forest

  Sera

  The following morning, the farmer appeared at my front door with a bag of potatoes and a plait of garlic.

  ‘It is only a token, but I want to thank you for helping with the fire,’ he said. ‘It took courage to come to my aid with everything they say about me.’ I must have looked surprised, because he added, ‘I’ve heard the stories.’ He gave me a half smile. ‘Some of them, although maybe not all. There are villagers who wish me to know how unwelcome I am.’

  ‘You think someone did this deliberately to force you to move out?’

  ‘I think it’s possible.’

  One of the neighbours walked past the house and peered at us, not bothering to hide his interest. I stepped back and waved the man inside. ‘Please, come through.’

  He looked a little unsure then followed me along the tiled corridor. His limp seemed worse than the night before as he navigated the three steps into the pale blue farmhouse kitchen. He stood awkwardly inside the doorway. I motioned for him to take a seat at the bleached pine table that ran most of the length of the room.

  ‘Coffee?’ I asked lifting the garlic and hanging it temporarily on the handle of the small window above the bread bin.

  He nodded. ‘Please.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know your name,’ I said over my shoulder.

  ‘It’s Henri.’

  I poured us both a mug and sat down opposite him. ‘So, apart from what happened last night, how are you finding living in the New Forest?’

  He gave a slow shrug with his right shoulder. ‘It’s a beautiful area, much better than some places I’ve lived. I am not certain how long I will remain here.’

  I could understand his not wishing to stay. What had he ever done to anyone here to deserve their distrust? ‘Where did you live before coming here?’

  ‘Many places. I grew up in Paris.’ He hesitated frowning thoughtfully, then added, ‘I moved many times, but lived mainly in Marseille.’

  I sensed that he didn’t often share information about himself and was only doing so to be polite. There was something slightly mysterious about him. However, I still didn’t think that excused people’s suspicions about him. It infuriated me to think of customers in the supermarket whispering behind their hands as he shopped for basics.

  At that moment, Katie ran into the room. ‘Nana Mimi said she wants to speak to you in the garden.’

  Sensing someone else was in the room with us, Katie turned and shrunk against my legs, one arm wrapped around the back of my thighs, the other tugging my skirt.

  ‘This is my daughter, Katie,’ I said, ruffling her bed hair.

  ‘I’m Henri.’ He looked at Katie. ‘I live on the farm near the woods.’ Katie murmured a barely coherent greeting and Henri’s face softened. It was the first time I’d seen him smile. ‘How old are you, Katie?’

  ‘I’m nearly five,’ she said letting go of my skirt and edging closer to him. I willed her not to say anything she shouldn’t. ‘Why have you got a hurt on your face?’

  I winced.

  Henri raised his hand to touch the scarred cheek. ‘I was bitten by a dragon,’ he said quietly, bending slightly towards her.

  Katie’s eyes widened. She glanced at me to gauge if he was telling the truth. ‘Is it sore?’ she asked

  He seemed younger than I’d assumed him to be initially, maybe in his mid thirties. It was hard to tell. ‘Not now. It was for a while though.’

  ‘Do you have animals at your farm?’ she asked, leaning against the long bench, bored with his scars.

  He nodded. ‘I ’ave the horses, sheep, hens… and a dog, Patti. Patti is ’aving puppies soon.’

  Katie jumped up and down gleefully. ‘Can Mummy and I come and see them, please?’

  I hated that she’d put him in such an awkward position; how could anyone say no to an innocent request from a four-year-old?

  ‘But, of course.’

  ‘Mummy?’ She came to me and placed her hands on my skirt, a pleading expression on her face, willing me to agree. It seemed I had another actress in the making living with me.

  I nodded, liking the idea of seeing them myself. ‘Yes, when the puppies have been born,’ I said, not wishing her to visit when the ruins of the fire were so fresh and probably still smouldering. ‘Now, run along and tell Nana Mimi I’ll come outside to see her soon.’

  We watched Katie leave the room. ‘Thank you for bringing these,’ I said, pointing at the garlic. ‘Did you grow them?’

  He nodded. ‘On my previous farm.’

  ‘How lovely, thank you.’ I held the string of garlic up to my nose and sniffed. Heavenly, I couldn’t wait to use them in my cooking.

  ‘Do they know yet if the fire was started deliberately?’

  He looked at me. ‘It seems an accelerant was discovered at the side of the barn. I didn’t put it there.’

  Fury coursed through me on his behalf. ‘How could people be so vindictive?’

  ‘There are a lot of evil people in this world, er—’ he struggled to think of my name.

  ‘Sera. Short for Seraphina,’ I explained.

  ‘It’s an unusual name,’ he added after a slight pause.

  Used to this sort of comment, I said, ‘My mother wanted a glamorous name for me and that’s what she came up with.’

  ‘It suits you.’ He cleared his throat and glanced at the kitchen wall clock. ‘I must go. The animals are restless. I don’t want to leave them for long.’ He positioned the palms of his hands against the table and pushed himself up to stand, wincing in pain. I resisted taking his elbow to help him, not imagining he would take kindly to my assistance. ‘I worry that if I am away from the farm they might come back.’

  Disturbed by this thought, I stood up to show him out. ‘Call to see us again if you’re in the village. I’ve only been back here a couple of years myself, so I know what it’s like to have few friends.’

  ‘That is kind of you,’ he said.

  I watched as he walked down the front steps and closed the front door quietly. I turned to go and join Mum in the garden, but was surprised to see her walking in the back door.

  ‘Has he gone?’ my mother asked a second later, as Katie ran past her up the stairs.

  ‘Mum, don’t be mean.’ Her attitude really annoyed me sometimes.

  ‘He’s not the sort of man you should get involved with, Sera.’ There was no mistaking the distaste in her tone.

  I laughed, shocked by her histrionics. ‘Really, Mum. He brought a thank-you gift, that’s all.’

  Sometimes I wondered if returning to live in Oakwold with my mother after Marcus’ death had been the right move for me. It might be a pretty village, but it could be a little suffocating at times, especially when she treated me like I was still a teenager.

  ‘I don’t know how you think you can tell what sort of man someone is by having a sneaky look at him from a distance,’ I added, walking upstairs to find Katie, my heart pounding with irritation.

  ‘I know I’m right about this one,’ she said following me into Katie’s room. ‘But you never did listen to my advice.’

  Probably because I never thought she knew any better than me, I mused. I reflected on my childhood filled with her rules and regulations.

  ‘Nana Mimi, can we go to the
sweet shop today?’ Katie whispered.

  ‘We’ll go tomorrow when Mummy is at work,’ Mum said, grabbing Katie and tickling her.

  Katie’s giggles made me smile. Their closeness never ceased to amaze me. For some reason, she was able to show her love to Katie in ways that were still surprising to me. I watched them for a moment. At Katie’s age I’d craved attention from Mum. I now realised that as a single mother she had needed to accept any acting jobs she was offered to make enough money to keep us giving her little time to focus on me.

  ‘How would you like to come to the shop with me, Katie?’ I said, yearning for ten minutes in an air-conditioned store.

  ‘Nana Mimi, you coming?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, darling,’ Mum said, smiling at me over Katie’s head. ‘Nana has to learn her lines.’

  ‘Boring lines.’ Katie pouted, then remembering my offer, gave me a beaming smile and grabbed hold of my hand. ‘Sweets?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That little one will go far,’ Mum said as we all walked back downstairs and into the kitchen where I’d left my short shopping list. ‘You two go and enjoy yourselves and leave me in peace with this.’ She pulled a creased script towards her and waved us away.

  * * *

  Ignoring my mother’s prophecies of doom and determined to help Henri feel more included in the community, I drove up to the farm moments later. Maybe he needed me to fetch him something from the shop.

  The heat gave the roads a watery sheen. I lowered the sun visor to shield my eyes and turned off the main road onto the dusty dirt track leading to his home. Even the birds seemed quieter in the intense heat. A light breeze did nothing to ease the temperature, but swept across the heads of corn in a nearby field giving the impression of gently rolling golden waves.

  ‘Henri,’ I called from my battered Golf. It was thirty-five degrees inside but still cooler than standing in the direct sunshine. ‘I’m going into town; do you want me to pick anything up for you?’

  I waited outside the run-down farmhouse, its stone walls almost completely covered with rampant ivy. The front door didn’t open. I wasn’t sure if I’d done the right thing coming here. As I was tempted to go and knock, the weathered oak door was pulled back and Henri, scowling, looked across his dusty yard at me.