What Happened at Seacliffe

by Denise Kirby

CHAPTER ONE

The village

'Seacliffe!' called the bus driver.

The bus turned left into a large empty car park and stopped.

A few seats behind the driver a girl stood up, picked up her heavy backpack and got off the bus. 'Thanks,' she said.

The bus drove away.

The girl looked around. She was completely alone.

The car park was at the top of a cliff. Beside her, a gate led into a churchyard. There was an old stone church. And gravestones, some of them fallen or broken, were sticking out of the long green grass. In front of her, near the edge of the cliff, there were a few pretty white cottages and a small shop that wasn't open yet.

The girl looked at her watch. It was twenty past eight.

Light rain began to fall.

She looked up. 'Thanks,' she said to the sky. 'Good weather for reading gravestones.'

She walked over to the gate and into the churchyard. She put her backpack under a tree and took out a piece of folded paper. She unfolded it, looked at it and put it away again.

'Preston or Marwood,' she said aloud and went to the gravestones to search for the names.

For half an hour, she walked up and down the lines of graves. Some of the gravestones were very old and difficult to read. Others made her sad. Through the years, a lot of men had drowned near here. Mothers had lost young children. She looked at the names on the gravestones and wondered about the lives the people had lived.

But the names she was looking for were not there.

She heard a noise and looked up. Two big tourist buses were turning into the car park. She was surprised to see that there were quite a few cars there now too. And the sun was shining. There was also someone else among the graves - a woman holding some flowers.

The girl walked slowly towards her.

The woman knelt to put the flowers on a grave.

'Excuse me,' said the girl. 'I don't want to trouble you but perhaps you could help me?'

The woman looked up. 'You're Australian,' she said.

The girl smiled. 'Yes, I am.'

'Are you travelling?' asked the woman and nodded at the backpack under the tree.

Beyond the tree, the girl could see lots of tourists getting off the buses and walking towards the little shop.

'Yes. I have two months here in England then I hope to go to America.'

'Well,' said the woman. She had finished with the flowers. 'What are you doing in our little churchyard?'

'My mother wants me to find some of our ancestors. She's traced our family tree back to the 1700s and she thinks that some of our ancestors may be buried here. But I can't find them.'

The woman stood up and brushed some dirt off her hands. 'Old Em,' she said and began to walk towards the gate.

The girl followed her. 'Old Em?'

'Emerson Cleary,' the woman explained. 'If your ancestors are buried here or anywhere around here, Old Em will know. He's traced the family trees of most people in the village. He'd love to talk to you. Come on, get your bag. I'll show you the way.'

The girl grabbed her backpack and followed the woman through the car park towards the cottages and the shop. The car park was quite full now but she couldn't see many people.

She watched a family who were about fifty metres in front of her. They seemed to disappear over the edge of the cliff.

'Are there a lot of visitors to Seacliffe?'

'Oh, yes,' said the woman. 'Every day in the summer. There's quite a crowd.'

They reached the little shop at the edge of the cliff and suddenly, below them, there was the village.

'Oh!' said the girl. 'It's beautiful!'

The whole village was built into the side of the cliff. A very steep and narrow cobblestone road led all the way down to the sea. On both sides of it and all around were pretty white and grey cottages. They seemed very old. They had slate roofs and small, square windows and, because the land was so steep, some of them had steps up to the front door. And every house had flowers, in pots or at the windows, their colours bright against the white walls.

The girl followed the woman down the steep cobblestone road. 'It's beautiful,' she said again.

But before long they were in the middle of a crowd. Tourists filled the narrow road and the small souvenir shops along the way. Their voices filled the air. Near the girl, a large American man in a bright shirt called loudly to his wife, 'Hey, Myra! Take my photograph. Hey, what's the name of this place again?'

The girl hurried past.

'Old Em lives just through here,' said the woman. And they escaped down a very narrow lane between two houses.

They came to a little cottage on the other side.

'This is his place,' said the woman, and she knocked at the small blue door.

'Thank you,' said the girl.

'He'll help you,' said the woman. Then she went down the lane again and disappeared.

'Thank you,' the girl called after her.

She heard the door open and quickly turned around.

A man with a white beard stood there. On his head was a fisherman's cap and his face looked like it had seen all kinds of weather. But his eyes were bright and he looked comfortable in his clothes. Two cats wound themselves in and out between his legs.

'Um... Are you Emerson Cleary?' the girl asked.

'Yes, lass,' he answered.

'My name's Cully Robinson. Someone... a woman... thought that you could help me.'

Emerson Cleary led Cully into a room at the back of the house.

'I keep all my information in here,' he said.

'Wow,' said Cully.

Every inch of the room was covered in pieces of paper. There were family trees and notes and photographs stuck to the walls. There were piles of books on the desk and the floor and the chairs.

'You're worse than my mum, Mr Cleary.'

The old man laughed and another cat jumped down from the desk where it had been lying in a square of sunshine.

'Call me Em, lass. Everybody does.' The old man helped Cully take off her backpack. She was surprised that he was so strong.

'So, who do you want to find, lass?'

'Well...' Cully took a deep breath. 'My mother discovered that my great, great, great, great grandfather was a convict. He was sent to prison in Australia in 1831. Now she's traced the family tree and she thinks that his mother and some other ancestors may be buried here in Seacliffe. If I find any of their gravestones, I have to take a photograph for her. I've got a copy of the family tree here.'

Cully took the piece of paper out of her backpack, unfolded it and lay it on the desk. She pointed at some names near the top of the tree. 'Here they are. John Preston - he's my great, great, great, great grandfather - and his parents were Edward and Mary Preston.'

After the name, Mary Preston Cully's mother had carefully written (Marwood). Em pointed at the word. 'Was this Mary Preston's name before she was married?'

'Yes, I think so.'

'There's a Marwood buried up at the Manor House.' He thought for a moment. 'Maybe some Preston's too.'

'The Manor House?'

'Yes. It's a large house not far from here. The family who owns the village lives there.'

'One family owns this whole village?'

'Yes. For hundreds of years this whole area - the village, the farms around it, the forests - have all been owned by one family. And they have always lived in the Manor House. Look, I'll show you.' He went to search through some books near the window. 'That's the reason the village hasn't changed for nearly a hundred years. One of the descendants loved the village so much that he wouldn't allow anything to be changed. He didn't want to see anything modern here. Now everyone comes to see our old village. Ah! Here it is.'

He opened a book and put it on the desk in front of Cully. There was a map of the area. Em pointed at it. 'All this land is owned by the family. Here's the village. And there's the Manor House.' Then he pointed at a small cross on the map. It was some distance away from the house. 'And that's a little chapel. The graves of the family are next to it. That's the place to look for Edward and Mary Preston.'

'You think they may be there?'

Old Em gently pulled his beard. 'I can't remember. I have seen the graves, of course. But it was a long time ago. I'm more interested in the history of the people of the village than the history of the lords of the Manor.' He began to look around the room. 'But I have a little book somewhere...'

Cully smiled, moved some books off a chair and sat down to wait. Immediately a grey cat jumped onto her lap.

'Ah ha!' said Em suddenly. 'I knew I'd find it.'

He searched through the pages of a small, thin book then stopped and read for a moment. 'It says here that Mary Marwood was the sister of William Marwood, who owned the Manor. Mary married a man called Edward Preston and they had two sons, Robert and John.'

'John - my great, great, great, great grandfather.'

'That's right. Now, when William died he had no children. So in his will he left everything to his nephew Robert.'

'So, one brother became lord of the Manor and the other became a convict?'

'Yes, lass.'

Cully made a face. 'I think I was born on the wrong branch of the family tree. We've never had any money.'

They both laughed.

Em closed the book. 'Well, you should find William Marwood's and Robert Preston's graves at the Manor.'

'Can I go there?' asked Cully.

'Oh, yes,' said Em. 'You don't have to ask for permission. Unless you want to meet the family, of course,' he added.

'What are they like?' Cully asked.

Em took a moment to find the right words. 'Well... they're not the friendliest of people,' he said at last.

'Oh, really?' said Cully. 'Then I think I'll just visit the graves.'

Em nodded. 'The little chapel and the graves aren't very close to the house. The family won't even know that you're there. I'll make a copy of the map for you.' He grabbed the book from the desk and went to the corner of the room where there was a computer with a printer and copier. 'The map's old but you'll find your way. Nothing's changed.'

Cully looked at the modern computer and smiled.

Em brought the copy of the map back to her and Cully lifted the cat down from her lap.

Thank you for your help.' She put the map in her pocket and picked up her backpack. They walked through to the front of the house.

'Are you staying in Seacliffe?' Em asked.

'I wasn't going to, but perhaps I'll stay one night. Are there places to stay?'

'Oh, well, most tourists only come to Seacliffe for the day. Not many people stay the night. But there is a little hotel down near the water - Five Bells, it's called.'

'Is it expensive?'

'Oh, no,' said Em. He opened the front door for her. 'Only the souvenirs are expensive here.'

They laughed. Cully went out.

'Come and see me in the morning before you go,' he added. 'You'll need a rest halfway up the hill.'

'Thanks again,' said Cully and she walked out and down the lane, back to the steep cobblestone road.

She continued down the hill towards the sea. There was still a crowd of tourists on the road. Some of them were walking back up the steep hill. They looked hot and tired. She passed the American man again. His face was very red. 'Hey... Myra,' he said to his wife. He was breathing heavily. 'Did you pack another pair of legs for me? I'm going to need them.'

Cully continued down the narrow road until it ended near the water. She stopped and smiled at the view. It really was a pretty place.

A stone pier curved out into the sea to make a safe harbour for the many small fishing boats there. Some of the colourful little boats were pulled up on the beach - a beach not made of sand but of small grey rocks. And there were houses all the way down to the bottom of the cliff. The village began almost at the water's edge.

Cully noticed a red sign hanging over the door of an old building near the start of the pier. Five Bells, it said.

CHAPTER TWO

The graves

Cully got a small room in the hotel and that afternoon she took the map and her camera and went to search for the graves.

It was an effort to walk back up the steep cobblestone road to the top of the village. Then she had to walk across several fields and through a small wood where there was no path. Once, she got a little lost. But in the end she found the chapel and the graves beside it. In the distance - through some trees and across a great lawn - she could see the Manor House. It was very grand.

There were only about twenty gravestones and the grass had grown long around them. She looked at the largest one first. It belonged to Robert Preston, John's brother. Then she found William Marwood's. She pushed the grass down in front of the gravestones and took some photographs.

Then she noticed Mary Preston's grave. 'Oh, you are here,' she said aloud. 'Mum will be pleased.'

She looked for Edward Preston's grave but it wasn't there.

She took a few more photographs and was just about to go when a man's voice made her jump. 'King!' he shouted.

A dog barked an answer.

And suddenly a very good-looking young man strode around the corner of the chapel. He saw Cully and stopped, as surprised as she was. He saw the camera in her hand. 'I'm sorry,' he said rather coldly. 'No tourists are allowed here.'

'Oh,' said Cully. 'I'm not a tourist... I mean, I am, but...'

The man continued to look at her with cool blue eyes.

A large black dog appeared behind him then ran over to smell Cully.

'King!' he ordered and the dog went to stand beside him. Then he said to Cully, 'You're not English.'

'I'm from Australia. I'm sorry if I... I mean... Are you from the... um...?' She pointed at the Manor House.

'And what brings you here?'

'Well, I...' Cully turned and pointed at Mary Preston's grave. 'That's my great, great, great, great, great grandmother.'

The young man strode towards her and she took a step backwards. He stared into her face then looked at the grave. 'Mary Preston?' he demanded then pointed at Robert Preston's grave. 'His mother?'

'Yes,' replied Cully. 'She had another son, John. He was a convict and was sent to Australia and never came back. I'm descended from him.'

The young man turned to her and his face broke into a charming smile. 'Then I shall have to call you "cousin"!' He took a step towards her and looked into her eyes. 'A very distant cousin, of course. You see, I'm descended from Robert.' He put out his hand. 'I'm Jeremy Hartford. How do you do?'

Cully put her hand in his. 'Cully Robinson... I didn't think that I'd meet anyone from the family.'

'Didn't you?' Jeremy was still staring down at her.

Cully looked away at the graves. 'So, our ancestors... were brothers,' she said.

Jeremy smiled. 'Are you staying in Seacliffe?'

'Only for one night.' Cully took a step backwards and put her camera in its little bag. 'It's very pretty but I only came here because my mother wanted me to look for the gravestones. She's very interested in the history of our family. She digs and digs and digs until she finds more information. She loves it.'

Jeremy laughed lightly. 'Really?' He looked at her carefully. 'One night, eh? Well, I can't let a distant cousin dine alone. Will you allow me to take you to dinner?'

'Oh, you don't have to -' began Cully.

'I insist,' he said. 'You're family. There's a good restaurant in Newington, about five miles away,' he said. 'We'll eat there.'

'Oh, not in Seacliffe?'

'Oh, no. No, no, no. There's nothing good there. I'll pick you up at seven-thirty, all right?'

'That's very kind of you,' said Cully. 'But you really don't have to -'

'I insist.' Jeremy gave her another charming smile. 'Come on, King!' he ordered and began to stride away. 'I'll pick you up at seven-thirty from the car park at the top of the village,' he called back to Cully. And a moment later he was gone.

That evening at seven o'clock, Cully left her hotel and started the slow walk up the cobblestone road. All the tourists had gone now and the village was quiet. But it also seemed more alive. More real. Full of tourists during the day, the little town had been sleeping. Now it had opened its doors and windows and was waking up. Cully was sorry that Jeremy had not wanted to have dinner in Seacliffe. She felt comfortable there.

She reached the car park at the top of the cliff and waited. Jeremy arrived in a very fast and expensive-looking red car. Five minutes later, they were in Newington in a large and noisy restaurant where Jeremy seemed to know everyone.

At first Cully wished that she was alone and having a plate of fresh fish at Five Bells. But Jeremy was charming during dinner. Cully had wondered if he was going to talk about the history of the family all night but he hardly spoke about that at all. He had travelled a lot and they spoke about America and other places. The conversation was interesting. And he was so good-looking. Cully forgot all about Seacliffe until they arrived back in the car park at the top of the town.

'It's dark,' said Jeremy. 'I'd better walk with you down to the hotel.'

When they reached the beach at the bottom of the road Jeremy said, 'Let's walk along the pier.'

There was a thin moon to light their way. Two little fishing boats were returning to the harbour. Their lights danced on the water. A cat was waiting on the pier to welcome them.

'It must have been wonderful to grow up here,' said Cully. 'With fishing boats and cats and lots of places to hide.'

'I didn't come here much,' said Jeremy.

'Oh,' said Cully, 'but doesn't your family own the village?'

'Oh, yes,' he said.

'Oh.'

Ahead, Cully saw two men lifting some large buckets from a boat onto the pier. There was a strong smell of fish. She and Jeremy walked closer.

Suddenly one of the men dropped a bucket. Fish and water fell out on the pier and Jeremy and Cully had to jump to get out of the way. Cully and the fishermen began to laugh but Jeremy was angry. 'You clumsy fool!' he shouted. 'What do you think you're doing?'

The men were surprised. They looked carefully at him then suddenly seemed to recognise him. They moved quickly to pick up the fish. 'Sorry, sir,' they said. 'Sorry, sir.'

'Clumsy fool,' said Jeremy again and strode towards the end of the pier. Cully followed him.

When she reached him, he was standing still and looking out across the black water.

'Do you know the history of this area?' he asked her.

'No, not at all.'

'A lot of ships have been wrecked out there - a lot of lives lost a lot of cargo gone.'

'The sea can be cruel,' said Cully.

Jeremy moved a step closer to her and said quietly, 'Sometimes the sea had help.'

Suddenly Cully felt cold. She looked at him. 'I don't understand.'

Jeremy turned and pointed back at the dark shape of the cliffs. 'Two hundred years ago people would go out onto these cliffs at night with lights and lanterns. The captains of the ships would see the lanterns and think that they were safe - near the harbour, perhaps. They would bring the ships closer to the cliffs, closer and closer, until they were wrecked on the rocks. Then the people would come and "save" the cargo for themselves.' Jeremy's voice was very low now and Cully could feel his breath on the side of her face. 'People think it's a beautiful little village,' he said, 'but they don't know about the terrible things that have happened here.'

For a moment, it seemed that Jeremy was no longer talking about ships - or the past. Cully felt that he was giving her a warning. But then his face broke into a smile and he said, 'Come on. I'd better take you safely home.'

They walked back along the pier and he was wonderfully charming again. At the door of the hotel, they said goodbye.

'You're definitely leaving tomorrow morning?' asked Jeremy.

'Yes,' said Cully. 'Thank you for dinner.'

'It was my pleasure,' said Jeremy and then he turned and disappeared into the dark.

Cully went up to her room and lay on her bed.

She thought about her day - the gravestones, Emerson Cleary and his cats, and dinner with the 'lord' of the Manor. She thought about Jeremy, and about their family tree - one branch with the grand house and all the money, the other with nothing. She thought about her mother and the long hours she worked to pay for the things that Cully and her younger brothers needed. She remembered her mother's tired face.

Cully looked at her watch. Half past ten. In Australia, it would be half past seven in the morning. Her mother would be awake. She rolled over and reached for her mobile phone.

Her mother was excited to hear her news and Cully told her all about the gravestones.

'Mum, you must have told me but I've forgotten the reason John Preston was sent to Australia. What had he done?'

'He was convicted of forgery.'

'Forgery, that's right.' Forgery was quite bad but at least he hadn't hurt or killed anyone.

'Yes. He was really quite lucky,' her mother continued.

'Lucky? To be a convict and be sent to Australia?'

'Yes. In England before about 1830, if you were convicted of forgery you were killed. After 1830 they sent you to Australia instead.'

'And John Preston was sent there in 1831?' asked Cully.

'That's right. He was very lucky. Of course, many of the convicts died on the journey to Australia and many died later in the terrible prisons here. So John easily could have died anyway. But he didn't. And eight years later he was made a free man and he started a new life for himself. You know, it was John Preston who started my interest in the family tree. A few years ago, I suddenly remembered a conversation I had with my grandfather when I was young. He told me that his grandmother had told him about our ancestor the convict. She had said the family always knew that he was innocent - that he'd done nothing wrong.' She gave a short laugh. 'But I suppose most of the convicts said they were innocent. Oh! I have to go or I'll miss my bus. Call again soon. I love you.'

Cully put the phone down and went to the window. The moon was thin but there was enough light to see the pier and the beach below. She thought about that strange moment with Jeremy on the pier. She could hear his voice again in her head. ...terrible things have happened here. It was definitely a kind of warning. She was sure now. But what did he mean?

She turned back to look at her room. It was small and cheap but it was cozy. She liked it here. Perhaps she should stay in Seacliffe for a few more days.

CHAPTER THREE

The Manor House

The next morning Cully went downstairs and spoke to the owner of the hotel.

'Of course you can stay another two nights,' he said. 'It's nice that you're enjoying our little village.'

So Cully went out into the cool air of the morning and began to climb the cobblestone road. She discovered some other little roads and lanes and had a good look around the village. She went into a few shops and looked at the souvenirs before the crowds of tourists arrived. Then she went to Emerson Cleary's house.

He was happy to see her. 'Come in, lass. Come in.' He led her into the kitchen.

It was a cosy room with old blue cupboards on the walls. In the middle of the room, a lantern hung above an old table and four chairs. A black and white cat was eating from a plate on the floor near the back door and another one was asleep on a chair. Were they the same cats Cully had seen yesterday? She wasn't sure. When she sat down a black cat appeared and lumped onto her lap.

She laughed. 'How many cats do you have?'

'Seven, lass. They look after me well.' He smiled. 'I was just going to make a pot of tea. Will you have a cup?'

'Yes, please.'

'Where's your backpack?'

'Oh, I'm staying two more nights.'

The old man smiled and nodded at her. 'You've fallen in love with the village.'

Cully laughed. 'Yes, a bit.' She played with the black cat's ears. 'Em, I came here to ask you something. Is there a way to get more information about John Preston - about his life before he was sent to Australia? I found out that he was convicted of forgery but that's all I know.'

Em gently pulled his beard. 'They would have most of the records and information at the Manor House but perhaps I could find something.' He looked excited. 'I'll look in my books and on the computer this afternoon.'

When Cully returned to Five Bells just before noon, a note was waiting for her. It was from Diana Hartford, Jeremy's mother. Cully was invited to tea at the Manor House at half past two that afternoon.

She stared at the note. She had told Jeremy that she was leaving Seacliffe that morning. How did his mother know she was still there?

Cully stood near the chapel and looked at the Manor House in the distance. Would there be servants? She looked down at her dress. Usually she felt pretty in it. Now she felt plain. She looked at her watch. It was a quarter past two. She looked at the Manor House again. She knew one thing. She wasn't going to walk across that great lawn. She felt people could be watching her. Or perhaps that dog, King, would run out and attack her. And where was the road that led to the house? There must be one. Perhaps this was the back of the house.

She decided to follow the line of trees around the edge of the lawn. Then she would be at the side of the house.

Ten minutes later, she discovered that she was right - the front of the house was on the other side of the building. Now she could see the steps up to the front door. She slowly walked across to them. Suddenly she heard voices above her. She looked up. A window was open on the first floor. She could only catch a few words of the conversation. Then suddenly the man - it sounded like Jeremy - raised his voice.

'I tell you, Mother. I'm sure she doesn't know.'

A voice like ice answered, 'I hope not - for her sake.'

Cully stood very still. Were they talking about her?

She shook her head. She was being silly. This grand house was making her nervous. She took a deep breath, marched up the steps to the front door and rang the bell.

A tall man in a suit answered and invited her in. 'Madam and Mr Jeremy are waiting for you in the sitting room,' he said stiffly. 'Follow me, please.'

He led her up a grand staircase to the first floor, then down a long hall. He stopped at a door on the right and told her to wait. He opened the door, went in and said, 'Miss Cully Robinson, Madam,' and then nodded at Cully. She went in.

The room was about ten times as big as her room at Five Hells. Everything was white and gold and green. Diana Hartford stood next to a very large vase of white roses. Jeremy stood by the window.

'There you are, Cully,' he said and walked forward a few slops. 'Mother, this is Cully.'

Diana Hartford put out an elegant hand. Cully wondered if she ought to kiss it!

'How do you do, Cully? I'm Diana.'

Cully crossed the room and shook hands with her. 'Thank you for inviting me to tea.'

'You're welcome, dear. Please, sit down.'

There were two white sofas with a low table between them, Cully sat carefully on one. Diana sat beside her. Jeremy dropped onto the sofa on the other side.

Diana looked at Cully and smiled. 'Jeremy tells me that you've come to trace your family.'

'Well, really, I'm just having a holiday. My mother's the one who is interested in the history of the family. I promised her I would look for the graves.'

There was a soft knock at the door and a maid brought in the tea. She put it on the low table. There was an elegant teapot, three cups and three small plates, spoons, sugar and milk and several kinds of cake.

'I'll pour the tea, Alice,' Diana said to the maid. 'You may go.'

'Thank you, Madam.' The maid closed the door quietly behind her.

Diana lifted the teapot. 'So, you're travelling?'

'Yes,' answered Cully. 'I wanted a holiday before I start at university because I won't get another one for a long time. I'll have to work while I'm studying to pay my fees. And when I've finished I'll still owe money to the university. I'll have to get a good job to pay the rest of the fees.'

'I see,' said Diana stiffly and passed Cully a cup of tea.

Jeremy took a large piece of cake and laughed. 'You mustn't talk about money, Cully,' he said. 'It makes Mother terribly uncomfortable.'

'Don't be silly, dear,' said Diana. 'Eat your cake.' She turned to Cully. 'Jeremy tells me that you are descended from the convict John Preston. How exciting. Do you know much else about him?'

'Not much. But I'm hoping a man in the village, Emerson Cleary, can find out more information for me.'

'Really?' Diana carefully put her cup on the table.

'Yes. In fact, I wondered if you had any old papers or information here?'

'Cully,' Diana smiled at her, 'may I ask how long you're going to stay in Seacliffe?'

'Another two nights.'

Diana reached out a hand and placed it on top of Cully's. 'Then you must stay here. With us.'

'Oh,' said Cully. She was completely surprised. 'That's very kind of you but -'

'I insist,' said Diana.

Cully put her cup down. 'No, really, Mrs Hartford, I -'

'Call me Diana, please.'

'Honestly, it's really kind of you but I rather like the village and -'

'Where are you staying?'

'At Five Bells.'

'Oh, you can't stay there.' Diana stood up. 'Shall we put her in the blue room, Jeremy?' She took Cully's arm and Cully had to stand. 'Come on,' she said to Cully. 'I'll show it to you now.' She began to take her towards the door.

'You'd better say "yes",' said Jeremy.

It was a beautiful house but Cully felt there was something cold about it. She didn't feel comfortable there. 'But I can't stay,' she said. 'I don't have my clothes and things.'

'Oh, that's not a problem,' said Diana. 'I'll send someone to get them.' She opened the door.

Cully quickly walked out of the room. She felt she had to escape. She turned back to Diana. 'It's really kind of you,' she said in a rush, 'and you've been really nice and I don't want to be rude but I'm quite happy at Five Bells and... thank you for the tea.'

She began to walk quickly down the hall. But she soon discovered she had turned the wrong way. It was not the way to the staircase. It was the end of the hall. And on the wall in front of her there was a painting. Cully stopped and stared.

It was a painting of a woman in a long yellow dress. She was carrying a small dog. But Cully looked only at the woman's face.

Because it was her face. The woman looked just like Cully.

Diana's voice behind her said, 'That's a picture of Mary Preston.'

Cully turned.

Diana and Jeremy were walking slowly towards her. She knew it was silly but she felt trapped and a little frightened.

'It's amazing,' said Jeremy. He looked from Cully's face to the painting and back again. 'You look so like her. I noticed it the first moment I saw you at the graves.'

'Yes,' said Diana. 'It's so strange that a face from the past can reappear... like a ghost.' She reached out and put a cold hand on Cully's arm. She smiled. 'You have to stay with us. You're family.'

Cully was trapped in the corner. There was no way out.

But then the maid suddenly appeared behind Jeremy and Diana. 'Excuse me, Madam,' she said.

And Cully took her chance.

She put a smile on her face and said, 'Thank you so much for your offer, Diana, but I really must go.' And she sprang between them and hurried down the hall.

CHAPTER FOUR

A visit to Exeter

Cully sat on the pier, her back against the old stonewall. It was early evening but the wall still held the heat of the sun. The tourists had all gone home. Two fishermen were mending a net on the beach. And in front of a house a woman was sweeping.

A cat wandered up the pier towards Cully then sat beside her and began to wash itself.

'Do you know the Hartfords?' Cully asked the cat. 'They're very strange.'

The cat continued washing.

'All the words they say are nice and charming but they seem to mean something else. Something I don't understand. They seem to be hiding something. But what? And why?' Cully looked out across the water to the fishermen with their long net. 'We don't even know each other. We're descended from two brothers who lived two hundred years ago.'

And their mother. Cully thought again about the face in that painting. Her face.

'Why didn't Jeremy say anything about that?' she asked the cat. '"Hello, I'm Jeremy. Wow! You look just like my great, great, great, great, great grandmother who's hanging in the hall." Something like that. That would be the usual thing to say.'

The cat bit at something in its hair.

'But instead, his mother starts talking about ghosts. Were they trying to frighten me?' she asked the cat, who rolled over onto its back.

Cully looked out at the water. 'It's very strange.'

Suddenly she noticed another man on the beach. He raised his arm. It was Emerson Cleary. Cully ran to meet him.

'I've made a big pot of fish stew, lass,' he said. 'Come and have dinner with me. I've something to tell you.'

Old Em put two large plates of fish stew on the table and cut some pieces of fresh bread.

'Sit down, lass,' he said to Cully. 'Don't let it go cold.'

They both sat down at the table.

In the corner, seven cats hungrily ate bits of fish from their plates on the floor.

Cully tasted the stew. It was really good. 'This is wonderful, Em.'

He smiled broadly at her and nodded.

'But I can't wait any longer,' Cully added and smiled back at him. 'What do you have to tell me? Did you find some information about John Preston?'

'No,' said Em.

'Oh.' The smile left Cully's face.

Em put the end of a piece of bread in his stew then took it out and bit it off. He was enjoying himself. 'But I did find something interesting about William Marwood.'

'The uncle?'

'The uncle,' repeated Em. He looked very pleased with himself. 'By chance, I found the name of the solicitors that William Marwood used.'

'The name of the solicitors?' repeated Cully. That didn't seem a very exciting piece of information.

'Benton and Blake,' said Em. He pointed his fork at her. 'And do you know - they're still in business today.'

'What?!' said Cully. 'They're still in business after two hundred years?'

'Yes,' said Em. 'The company is still owned by the same family. And when I telephoned them today they said that about a year ago, they began an archive because they had a lot of old papers and letters and documents. And I spoke to the lass in charge of the archive and asked her about William Marwood. Then I had to wait a long time while she searched. But in the end she came back to the telephone and said that they do have some papers written or signed by William Marwood. And if you want, you can go and see them.'

'Really?' said Cully. 'That's amazing. My mother will be so excited when I tell her. Thank you, Em.'

'My pleasure.' The old man took a big mouthful of fish slew.

'Em?' said Cully.

'Mm?'

'Do you know the Hartfords very well?'

'No, lass. They've never mixed much with the people of the village. They keep themselves to themselves. When Mr Hartford was alive, he used to bring his son to the village. But he died when the boy was only about four or five years old. Since that time we've hardly seen the mother or the son.'

'I went to tea with them today,' said Cully. 'They wanted me to stay with them.'

Em looked surprised. 'Are you going to stay there?'

'No, they frightened me.'

'Frightened you, lass? How?'

Cully looked at her food. 'Oh, they didn't really do anything. I just felt like we were having two different conversations all the time. It seemed that they knew something I didn't know.' Then she looked up and smiled. 'Maybe I'm just not used to rich people.'

Em smiled too. 'They can be strange, lass. They can be strange.'

'The strangest part was the painting. They have a painting of Mary Preston,' Cully explained. 'And I look like her. I mean, I really look like her.'

Em nodded slowly.

'I was never really interested in the history of the family but when I saw that painting... It was my face on a woman who lived two hundred years ago, and it was hanging in someone else's house. Now that was strange.'

Em gently pulled his beard. 'You'll go to see William Marwood's papers then?'

'Oh, yes,' said Cully. 'Definitely. Where are the solicitors' offices?'

'In Exeter. It's not far. It's about an hour on the bus.'

'Then I'll go tomorrow.'

Cully looked up at the sign that said Benton and Blake - Solicitors. She had thought that, like the company, the offices would be very old. But the building in front of her was modern - all glass and steel. She pushed open the door.

The woman in charge of the archive was in a meeting. Cully had to wait. After a quarter of an hour the woman appeared.

'Hello. I'm Susan Powell,' she said. 'I'm sorry you had to wait. Come on, I'll show you the papers.'

She led Cully upstairs and along a hall. Large windows looked down on the busy street below.

'Mr Cleary said you're a descendant of William Marwood.'

'William didn't have any children,' replied Cully. 'I'm descended from his sister.'

'I see.' Susan stopped at a door, took out a key and unlocked it. They went in.

Again, Cully was surprised. It didn't look like an archive. There were boxes and piles of old papers and documents on the floor, on the tables, on the chairs. It was a mess.

'Please excuse the mess,' said Susan. 'I only have time to work in here for a few hours each week. It's not my real job.' She began searching among the papers. 'We moved to these new offices about ten months ago. When we left the old offices, all these documents were discovered. They'd just been sitting there all those years. A lot of them are in very good condition. So I decided to start an archive.' She smiled at Cully and looked around at the mess. 'But I haven't done a lot.' She suddenly saw a box on a table. 'Ah! There it is. I knew I'd put it somewhere.'

She picked up the box and led Cully out of the room. She locked the door. 'I'll show you to a room where you can look at these papers.'

She led Cully into a small room where there was a table and two chairs. She put the box on the table, opened it, looked at the papers inside and counted them. 'Sorry,' she said to Cully, 'but I have to be careful we don't lose anything. I have another meeting now but I'll have to check the papers before you go. I should be back in about forty-five minutes. Okay?'

'Okay,' said Cully. 'Thank you.'

Susan closed the door behind her.

Cully put her bag on the floor, sat down at the table and look the papers out of the box. There were about eight or ten documents - some small, others larger. The thick pages had started to turn brown and the old, elegant writing was hard to read. But Susan Powell was right. They were in very good condition.

The first document was a short letter. There was no date. It began To Mr Samuel Benton. The S in Samuel was a long letter with a line through it so the name looked like famuel. The letter was signed at the bottom by William Marwood. Cully ran her finger lightly over the name. She began to read.

The letter seemed to be about some trouble for one of his farmers. It finished ...and the happiness of the farmers on my land is very important to me, so I thank you for your efforts in this business.

What 'business'? Cully smiled. She would never know.

She put the letter to one side and picked up the next page. It was another letter. The date read the twenty-fifth of May, 1805.

My dear Benton,

You are right. Seacliffe is the prettiest town in all of England. And I am surely the luckiest man. Now that my dear sister and her two boys have come to live here, my happiness is complete. Young John especially is a great pleasure to me. He is so bright.

'Oh no,' said Cully aloud. 'William had great hopes for John. Then John grew up to be a convict. Poor William.'

She rather liked William already. He loved Seacliffe and he looked after his farmers. He sounded nice.

The rest of the letter was about money that was owed to William by a company called Greenbank and Sons. Cully put it to one side.

Underneath was a large document that was folded. Carefully Cully opened it. At the bottom of the page was William Marwood's signature. And next to it was a large red wax seal with the letter M on it. The wax was very dry but the seal was still in one piece. Cully's eyes went to the top of the page.

This is the last will and testament of me, William Marwood.

'Oh!' breathed Cully. 'It's his will.'

She continued to read and then suddenly stopped and stared at the words in front of her.

... everything that I own to my nephew, John Preston.

Not to Robert.

To John.

William had wanted to leave everything to John. So why hadn't he done that? What changed? Was it because John was convicted of forgery? Did William decide to change his will then, and leave everything to Robert? If he did, then there must be a different will somewhere - one that he wrote later than this.

Cully looked for the date on the will and found it at the bottom of the page.

Signed on the fifth day of May in the year eighteen hundred and thirty-nine.

1839? But that was eight years after John had been sent to Australia. Eight years... What had her mother said? ...eight years later, he was made a free man...

So this will was written in the same year that John became a free man. He may have been a forger and a convict, but William had still wanted him to come home to England and have everything.

Cully took out her copy of the family tree and looked at it. William died in 1841. So, if he signed this will in 1839, why did he suddenly decide, in his last two years, to leave everything to Robert instead?

Or perhaps he didn't.

Cully stared at the will.

Suppose the story that Cully's mother had told her was true and John Preston was innocent. Suppose there was a forgery, but John wasn't the forger.

Cully sat back in her chair.

Suppose Robert knew that, he wasn't going to get any money from his uncle. And suppose he thought that he would get the money if his brother was gone. Could he have forged something - maybe some money or something - and made it look like John's work, in order to get John convicted? And killed? Cully heard her mother's voice in her head. He was lucky... Before 1830, if you were convicted of forgery, you were killed. Had Robert wanted his brother dead?

But if he had wanted that, then it hadn't worked. John wasn't killed. He was sent to Australia and became a free man, and in 1839, William was still going to leave the money to him. So, did Robert decide to forge for a second time? If he had done it once, then he could do it again. After all, his brother was on the other side of the world. News from England took months and months to reach Australia in those days. It would be a long time before John even knew that his uncle was dead.

Did Robert decide to forge a new will, with a later date than this one, to get the money for himself? Should the money, the land, the village, really belong to John and his descendants?

Did the Hartfords know this? Was this their secret?

CHAPTER FIVE

In the library

Cully looked at the rest of the documents in front of her but there was nothing more about William's nephews or his will.

There was a letter from William to Samuel Benton about a long illness the solicitor had. It was written in October, 1840. There were no papers with a later date on them. Perhaps Benton's illness had killed him.

Cully looked at the old will again. She looked at William's signature on all the documents. It was the same every time.

There were wax seals on four of the documents. Again, they were all the same - the letter M with a pattern of leaves wound around it.

Cully looked at her watch. Susan Powell would return in a few minutes.

Cully laid the will flat on the table and took out her camera. She quickly photographed the whole document then took separate, closer photographs of William's signature and his seal. She put her camera back in her bag and the documents back in the box. A moment later, Susan opened the door.

When Cully left the offices of Benton and Blake, she went immediately to find a shop to print her photographs. She printed them very large. She was pleased with them. They were nice and clear.

Then she returned to Seacliffe and went to see Emerson Cleary. She showed him the photographs.

'Don't you think it's strange?' she asked. 'John is convicted and sent to Australia and William still wants to leave everything to him. Then, two years later, William dies and it all goes to Robert.'

Em pulled his beard. 'Well, it's certainly strange, lass, but sometimes people do change their wills at the last moment.'

'So you don't think it's possible that Robert was the real forger?'

'I didn't say that, lass.' Em smiled and pointed at the photographs. 'You have a mystery there.'

'I wish that I could see the other will.'

'Robert's?'

'Yes.'

'If it's anywhere, it'll be up at the Manor House,' Em said slowly.

Cully looked at him. Her heart sank. 'Well... I was invited to stay...' But she really didn't want to go back there. 'Do you think they would show it to me?'

'I don't know, lass. But you have to be careful. If they think that you're trying to get their money...'

Cully was surprised. 'I don't want their money! I mean... I couldn't get it... Could I? After two hundred years?'

'I don't know, lass. But if they've been trying to frighten you, maybe they think you can.'

Cully thought about the last two days. Was that the reason that Jeremy had asked her to dinner? The reason that Diana had invited her to tea? The reason they had asked her to stay? Were they watching her? Did they want to frighten her away, to stop her before she found out any more?

'Well, I won't let them frighten me,' she said. 'Just because they're rich they think they can do anything they want. But I'm going to find out the truth.'

At the Manor House Cully was shown into the sitting room again. She sat on the edge of one of the white sofas and waited. Her backpack was downstairs.

The door suddenly opened and Diana Hartford came in. Cully stood up. Diana came towards her.

'Cully. What a nice surprise.' Her smile didn't seem quite real. 'We didn't think we'd see you again.'

'I feel so foolish,' said Cully sweetly. 'I wanted to say sorry for the way that I ran out of here yesterday. It was very rude. You and Jeremy have been so kind to me.' She didn't stop to let Diana speak. 'I was so excited to be invited here. I think I went a bit silly! I'm not used to being in grand houses. I think it was a bit too much for me.' She finished with a sweet smile. 'It's so beautiful here.'

'Indeed it is.' Diana remained standing.

'Can you forgive me?' begged Cully.

Diana smiled carefully again. 'Of course, my dear.'

'Oh, I'm so glad!'

Diana didn't say anything.

Cully took a deep breath. 'I'm leaving Seacliffe tomorrow,' she began. 'And I wondered... I mean, is it possible... I mean, may I stay the night here?' She rushed on. 'I was foolish not to accept your offer yesterday. And I do understand if you don't want me here. But it would be a wonderful chance to see the house where my ancestors lived.' Then she added, 'After all, I'll never see it again.'

There was a moment before Diana answered. Then she moved to push a button on the wall. 'I'll get Alice to show you to the blue room. You should be comfortable there.'

Cully smiled broadly. 'Oh, thank you, Diana. Thank you very much.'

Diana walked towards the door. 'Jeremy is in the house somewhere. I'll send him to show you around.'

She walked into the hall. Then Cully heard her say, 'Alice, how Miss Robinson to the blue room, will you? And tell Mrs Beasley there will be three for dinner this evening.'

The painting of Robert Preston was in the dining room. Cully looked at it. Jeremy looked out of the window.

'So, there are no pictures or paintings of John?' she asked.

'If there were, there aren't now,' he answered.

'He lived here when he was a boy. Did you know?'

Jeremy looked at her. 'There are a lot of old papers and documents in the library. You can look in there if you want. But I don't think you'll find anything.'

He led her through to the library. One wall of the room had windows and glass doors that led to the garden. There were low cupboards along the other three walls and above them, all the way to the ceiling, were hundreds of books. Most of them looked very old.

Jeremy opened one of the cupboards and took out a book. He looked at the cover, gave a short laugh and dropped the book on a small table. 'I became interested in the history of the family once,' he said. 'I read everything I could find. I was fifteen.' He walked over to the glass doors, opened them and went outside. 'You won't find anything there about John Preston.' He sat in a chair outside the door with his back to her.

Cully looked at the open cupboard. Was the will in there? She quickly looked in the book Jeremy had left on the table. It contained lots of lists of names and amounts of money. It was a record of business. She went to the cupboard. There were more books of the same kind - records of business that went back more than one hundred and fifty years. But Cully was looking for something else.

She quickly searched for the oldest documents there. She found some tied together with a thin piece of leather. She carefully took them out, untied them and opened them. They were records of births - babies that were born in 1835, 1836, 1838... Robert's children. She put the documents back in the cupboard and continued to search.

At the bottom of the cupboard under a pile of some other papers, Cully saw a red metal box. She pulled it out onto the floor. One short word was written on the front of it - WILLS. She glanced at Jeremy. He was still in his chair with his back to her. She quickly opened the box. A few moments later William Marwood's will - the will that left everything to Robert Preston lay open on the floor in front of her. It looked just like the will she had seen at the offices of Benton and Blake. She looked at the date - the thirteenth of October 1840.

'Found something, have you?'

Jeremy's voice made her jump. He was standing near the door. His face was dark against the light outside.

'Oh... no,' she said. 'You were right. There doesn't seem to be anything about John here.'

Cully slowly put the documents back in the box and put it back in the cupboard. Jeremy came and closed the doors.

He smiled. 'Come and see the rose garden,' he said. And she followed him outside.

Dinner was at eight o'clock in the dining room downstairs. Diana, Jeremy and Cully sat at one end of the long table.

'Is your room comfortable?' Diana asked Cully.

'Oh, yes,' she replied. 'It's wonderful.'

'And did Jeremy look after you this afternoon?'

'He was very charming,' said Cully. 'He showed me all around the house and gardens. It must be wonderful to live here. And the town of Seacliffe is so pretty. I could sit on that little pier and watch the boats forever.'

'Really?' said Diana.

'Mother doesn't leave the house often,' said Jeremy brightly. Do you, Mother?'

'I like the quiet of these rooms and the rose garden,' answered Diana carefully.

'But Mother, thousands of tourists visit Seacliffe every year. You should too. After all, it makes us plenty of money.'

Diana smiled stiffly.

Cully was beginning to think that Jeremy liked to make his mother feel uncomfortable.

'I like to stay here,' Diana said slowly. She raised her voice only a little but they all knew that the conversation had ended.

That night Cully waited in her room until she was as sure as she could be that everyone had gone to bed. She waited another twenty minutes then took a small torch from her backpack, quietly left her room, found her way along the dark hall and went downstairs to the library. She had to see that will again.

The library door was closed. Carefully she opened it. All was in darkness. She shone her torch around the room. There was no one there. She went to the cupboard, opened it, held the torch in her mouth and took out the red box.

She quickly found the will.

But then suddenly she heard a soft noise from somewhere and she stopped moving, the will in her hand. She listened but couldn't hear anything. She quickly put the red box back in the cupboard and laid the will on the small table. She took the torch out of her mouth and shone the light on William Marwood's signature.

Suddenly there was another noise - louder and closer this time. Someone was coming!

Quickly Cully folded the will. She reached behind her, lifted up her shirt and pushed the will into the top of the back of her skirt. She hoped it stayed there and that it wasn't sticking out. She quickly grabbed some other papers from the cupboard and turned towards the door. Light suddenly filled the room and Jeremy stood there.

'Oh, hello,' said Cully brightly. 'I couldn't sleep so I came down to get a book...'

Jeremy looked at the open cupboard.

'... and then I started to read these old... um -' She looked at the pages in her hand. Letters and -'

'In the dark?' asked Jeremy.

Cully opened her mouth to answer but nothing came out. Jeremy was walking towards her.

'Oh, I see,' he said. 'You have a torch. Like a thief.'

He took her torch and the letters out of her hands.

She tried to laugh lightly. 'You don't think that I was going to steal anything, do you?'

'I don't know, cousin.' He looked down into her face. 'Were you?'

She looked up into his eyes and saw something cruel there.

'I think you had better return to your bedroom,' he said slowly.

'All right,' she said. She tried not to show him that she was frightened.

He followed her out of the library and up the stairs. The will felt like it was burning a hole in the back of her shirt. Cully felt sure he would see it. But he didn't.

When they reached her room, Cully went in and turned to close the door. But Jeremy was in the way.

'Sleep well, cousin,' he said and smiled.

He took a step back to allow her to close the door. And she saw that Diana was there now too.

Cully pushed the door shut and held her hands there.

Then she heard the sound of the key turning in the lock.

She tried the door but it wouldn't open.

'Hey!' she cried. But there was no answer.

She was locked in.

CHAPTER SIX

Locked in the blue room

These people were mad!

Okay, she had been looking in that cupboard without their permission, but they couldn't just lock her in her room! What else were they going to do to her?

She listened at the door but heard nothing. She ran to the window, opened it and looked out. There was a five-metre drop to the ground. Unless she wanted to break a leg, there was no way out through the window.

She ran back to the door and listened again but everything was quiet and still. Her breathing began to slow. She tried to get her thoughts straight.

Were they coming back for her? Was she going to be found dead in some field tomorrow?

Well, if she was, she wanted to know the reason.

There was a lamp on the desk near the window. She went to it and turned it on. She pulled the will out of the back of her skirt, carefully unfolded it and looked at it under the bright light. Could she find something that showed it was a forgery? That would explain everything.

She ran to get the photographs of the other will out of her backpack. She laid them on the desk next to Robert's will and looked at them both. The paper looked the same. The signatures looked the same. The seals looked the same. She read both documents. They were almost the same. In some places, the words were a little different but there was nothing that seemed important.

She sat down at the desk. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe William did want to leave all his money to Robert. Maybe Jeremy and Diana were just mad and liked to frighten tourists. Maybe it was fun for them.

Her eye followed the curves of William Marwood's signature one letter at a time. She looked backwards and forwards between the two documents. No, there was no difference. The signature was the same. She looked at the two seals. The one on Robert's will was also very dry and a piece of the edge of it had broken off. She followed the curves and points of the letter M in the centre. It was the same on both seals. She followed the pattern of leaves that wound in and out, over and under the letter.

She suddenly stopped and sat forward. There was a difference! She counted the leaves to be sure. Yes, in a part of the pattern around the top of the letter there were seven leaves where there ought to be eleven. It wasn't the same seal on both documents! But it was almost the same - like someone had tried to copy it.

She quickly grabbed her camera from her bag and photographed the second will. Again, she took several close photographs of the signature and the seal. But then she had a sudden thought.

Did the two different seals prove that Robert's will was a forgery? Perhaps the will that left everything to John was the forgery? No, Cully decided. That one was kept by the solicitors. Surely, Mr Benton would have written it and watched William Marwood sign it and place his seal on it.

But perhaps neither of the documents was a forgery. Perhaps William had got another seal made and it was just a little bit different from the first one. No, that couldn't be right. That was the whole point of seals. They proved that the letter or document definitely came from the person who had signed it. If everyone already knew your seal, you wouldn't change it not even a little bit.

Cully looked at the old will in her hands. It was a forgery. She was sure. It wasn't William's true will. It wasn't what William had wanted.

She looked around the room. So this house, the village and all the money should not really belong to the Hartfords.

She carefully folded the will, turned off the lamp and lay down on the bed. She held the will tight against her. The Hartfords were not going to let anyone come between them and their money. That was clear. She had been foolish to come here. How long were they going to keep her locked in this room? And what were they going to do to her? She rolled onto her side and waited.

Cully opened her eyes. Sunshine filled the room. It was morning. Suddenly she remembered everything and sprang off the bed. She was okay - nothing had happened to her in the night. She looked at her watch. It was ten to eight.

She pushed her hair off her face and slowly walked across the room. She tried the door. It was unlocked! She threw it open wide and looked into the hall. There was no one there. She was free! Free to get out of this house.

She grabbed her few things that were lying about the room and threw them into her backpack. She quickly fixed her hair and grabbed the photographs from the desk. She suddenly stopped and looked at Robert's will. It was still lying on the bed. Should she leave it there? Should she put it back in the library? Should she find Diana and Jeremy and give it back to them face-to-face? Should she let them know that she knew the truth?

But what would be the point of that? She was sure the Hartfords knew the truth too. That would explain the way they had behaved towards her. But they hadn't forged the will. All they had done was to keep quiet about it. Would she have done anything different? And it all happened two hundred years ago. It was ancient history.

But, of course, it wasn't only history. Robert Preston stole the money and the land from his brother and that changed the lives of all their descendants.

Cully went to her backpack, pulled out her copy of the family tree and unfolded it. She stared at the names of the people who were still alive. Some of them were her aunts and uncles and cousins but some she didn't know at all. There was one branch of the tree - from one of John Preston's granddaughters - that Cully's mother hadn't traced at all. It was possible that there were more descendants there.

Were the two different seals enough to prove the forgery? She had no idea. Suppose they were - what then? The Hartfords wouldn't just give the money back. They would fight to keep it. The families could be fighting about it for years. Perhaps it would be better if no one knew about the forgery. She looked down at the names on the family tree again. How could she decide that? She didn't even know half those people.

She quickly folded the family tree and put it in her backpack. She went to the bed and picked up the will. No, she couldn't decide for other people. This was about her - her and Jeremy and Diana. They had fooled her, and frightened her and locked her in her room. She was going to see them one more time.

She picked up her backpack and walked out.

She found Jeremy and Diana in the dining room. They were having breakfast. She went to stand at the end of the long table. Diana looked up at her. Jeremy didn't.

'There you are,' said Diana lightly. She looked at Cully's backpack. 'Are you leaving already? Have some breakfast before you go.'

'You locked me in my room,' said Cully.

Diana smiled stiffly. 'Don't be silly, dear. Why would we do that?'

Jeremy lifted his eyes to look at Cully. 'That lock sticks sometimes. We've always had trouble with that, haven't we, Mother?' He turned to look at Diana.

She said nothing.

And suddenly Cully understood that they were more frightened of her than she was of them.

She put her backpack down, strode up to the other end of the table, unfolded the will and put it in front of them.

'I took this from the library last night.' She glanced at Jeremy. 'Yes, I suppose I was a little bit of a thief. But I was never going to keep it.'

Diana sat forward to look at the will. Then she sat back.

Slowly, elegantly, she began to pour milk and then tea into her cup.

'I knew from the first moment I saw you,' she said. 'You'd found out about your family's history and it didn't seem right to you. Look, I know it doesn't seem fair - one brother gets all the money and the other gets nothing. But -'

Cully put the photographs of the other will on the table.

'I found another will,' she said. 'One that leaves everything to John.'

'Don't be silly, dear,' said Diana.

Jeremy stood up and took the photographs to the window. 'Where did you get these?'

Cully could see that he had never seen this will before. She didn't answer his question. 'The most interesting photograph is this one,' she said, and took it out of Jeremy's hands. It was the picture of the seal. 'Because, if you have a look at both the seals side by side...' She placed the photograph next to the will on the table, '...you can see there is a small difference.' She pointed to the pattern of leaves around the top of the letter M. 'It's not the same seal on both documents.'

She picked up the will. Her heart was beating fast but her voice was strong. 'I think Robert forged this one. And I don't think it was the first thing he forged. I think it's possible that, years before, he forged something else and hoped to see his brother dead for it. But John was sent to Australia instead. Then he lived to be a free man again.' Cully pointed at the photographs in Jeremy's hands. 'And his uncle still wanted him to have the money.' She held up the document in her own hands. 'So Robert had to forge this will to get it.'

'What an interesting story,' said Diana in a voice like ice. 'But hardly true,'

'It's not a story,' said Cully angrily. 'And you know the truth.' She turned to Jeremy. 'Don't you? You've never seen this will before but you found something else that proves I'm right, didn't you?' Cully had been thinking about all the things Jeremy had said - all the things she had seen and heard. 'You found something in the cupboard in the library when you were fifteen, reading about the family history.'

Jeremy threw the photographs on the table and strode back over to the window.

Cully knew her words were getting close to the truth.

'A letter, perhaps?' she continued. 'Or a diary? What was it, Jeremy? What did you find? It's not there now, is it? Diana made you destroy it, didn't she?' Cully came closer to him. 'And how did it feel? To be fifteen and find out that your land, your money, your whole life was stolen from somebody else?'

'How dare you!' said Diana in a low voice. She rose from the table. 'How dare you come into my house and -'

Cully quickly turned to her.

'I dare. I dare,' she repeated, 'because I came onto your land to take a photograph. That's all I wanted. I would have taken my pictures of the gravestones and gone away.' She turned and pointed at Jeremy's back. 'But you invited me to dinner.' She turned back and pointed at Diana. 'You invited me to tea. You tried to fool me and frighten me and you locked me in my room!'

'Nothing you say is true,' said Diana grandly.

'Oh, for God's sake, Mother,' cried Jeremy.

'None of it! Do you hear me?'

Diana picked up the photograph of the seal from the table and took a step towards Cully. Slowly she began to tear the photograph into pieces. She spoke very quietly again. 'William Marwood left everything to Robert Preston. And for two hundred years my ancestors have looked after the village and the farms and the land. For two hundred years, my family has lived here. And you will never take Seacliffe away from us.' She opened her hands and the pieces of the photograph fell to the ground.

And suddenly Cully felt a laugh begin to rise inside her. She suddenly saw that for three days she had been caught in some kind of madness. She had come to this place only because her mother had asked her to come. Then she had allowed herself to be dragged into the madness and mystery of this old family secret.

'You find me funny, do you?' Diana stood as still as stone.

Cully was laughing freely now. 'I didn't come here to take your money, Diana. All I wanted was a photograph. I don't want your house. I don't want your land. I don't even want your beautiful village. And it is beautiful, Diana. Jeremy's right. You should go there.'

She was no longer laughing.

She picked up her backpack and looked around the room. 'Or you could stay here. With your money. And your fear.'

Jeremy looked at her.

'Goodbye... cousin,' she said.

And she left them there.