This is my favourite of Anita Frank’s novels so far. She’s chosen a fascinating period of history to set this gothic mystery and it adds something a little different to the ‘new servant in a creepy old house’ story. This is time when the country is traumatised, mired in grief and adjusting to the changes wrought by World War One. A time when loss looms large and people are searching for answers. Sarah is the new employee arriving at Darkacre, the family seat of the Stilwells. Like many aristocratic families, WW1 has wreaked havoc on the men in this family. When their father died, the eldest son Hugo became the heir of Darkacre. Yet his time as heir was very short, as he was killed on his return to the front leaving middle brother Maurice as heir to the Stilwell estate. Maurice was not prepared to be the master of the house and with double death duties already crippling the estate, he has learn fast. Unfortunately Maurice has returned from war a changed man, plagued by nightmares, flashbacks and extreme responses to loud noises, he has PTSD or what was then referred to as shell shock. With youngest brother Leonard severely disabled by his war injuries and struggling to come to terms with the loss of his limbs, the family are depleted and barely coping. However, as Leonard so cryptically tells us, perhaps it is no more than they deserve? Sarah’s arrival is the catalyst for this story and it isn’t just the relationship between family members that points to there being issues at Darkacre, soon a series of unexplained happenings start to gnaw away at the nerves of even the most stoic inhabitants.
Darkacre is the perfect gothic setting for the story and to some extent she represents the changes wrought on the aristocracy during this time period. Where before the war the family would have had several house servants, as well as gardeners, land agents, farm managers and so on, there is now just the brothers, Maurice’s wife Ida and Victor, a lifelong friend of Maurice. Due to the way army units were organised, Hugo Stilwell would have found himself the officer to a group of men he knew well, comprised of his brothers, tenants, young men and boys from the village. The losses were astronomical and not a single family in the parish missed out on their share of grief. This also left Maurice facing families of the young men he led to their deaths on a regular basis, including the upcoming ceremonies at the new war memorial. Servants were now in short supply and the tradition of going ‘into service’ had started to decline. We can see how social groupings have become blurred in the way Ida invites Sarah to eat with the family, instead of in the kitchen alone. They converse as equals, often as sitting together after dinner in the parlour. We can see how Ida has been craving female friendship and where it would be unsuitable to be passing confidences on to village women, Ida does start to confide in Sarah. Up till now it has very much been Victor’s role to inject a little levity into the proceedings and to amuse Ida. He confides to Sarah that both he and Maurice fell in love with her on sight, but she was more interested in Maurice and possibly the house and land that have her a title she craved.
On Sarah’s part there are few confidences shared and I found her rather mysterious and enigmatic. I was at first sure this was only a residue of the deference she had always shown employers in the past, but perhaps there is more to it than that. In a therapy situation, silence tends to draw the client forward and share confidences. In fact silence has often been my most powerful skill in terms of growth for the client and Sarah seemed to be using it for good effect. Is she simply trying to forge good relationships with her employers or is there something more sinister going on? The growing closeness between her and Leonard definitely feels genuine and I wondered what it was about their relationship that made Sarah relate to him differently. Was it that she saw him differently due to his disability, or is it a natural affinity? He seems to have different world views to the rest of the group, more compassionate and accepting of human imperfections. This is ironic given the family skeletons hiding out in closets and cupboards all over Darkacre. What was behind the sense of collaboration I felt between Ida and Victor? Why was Maurice so disturbed, not just by flashbacks and dreams, but possibly by his own conscience? Why is Ida unwelcome at the village’s ceremony for the new war memorial and does it have something to do with the disturbing parcel of an animal’s heart covered feathers that she receives?
Since I have a disability it would be remiss of me not to mention the veterans of WW1 left disabled by this horrifying war. Over one million men were killed in combat, but a further two million were left with some form of disability, 40,000 of which were amputees like Leonard Stilwell. He sits alongside such contemporary literary characters as Clifford Chatterley with a lot of the same emotional issues coping with the change of self-identity. Sarah represents a new stage in Leonard’s recovery, one he might resent, but yet they do become friends. On her first morning, Sarah arrives at Leonard’s room to find Victor smoking and Maurice laid across his brother’s bed rather like they’re still in barracks or the hospital. It’s a little glimpse into the institutionalisation of the men, more used to other male company in a military setting than the domestic sphere. Sarah could be seen as a barrier between Leonard and his fellow veterans, whereas before his care was kept within the sphere of the family now it is contracted out for money. Leonard could have felt as if he belonged, that his brother and Victor were still in the trenches with him, sharing the seismic shift his life has taken. His getting up routine was part of family life, whereas now it’s a job. A stranger has to perform the most intimate care for him and they are obliged to do it for money. He is now facing his disability alone. Yet he and Sarah muddle on quite well together, helped in part by Sarah’s training and professionalism, but also because they perhaps share the same anger and disdain for the futility of war.
Early on in the novel we see that Maurice is tormented by the memory of a young soldier who has half his face blown away. He can’t forget the horror of it, so it is perhaps fitting that the visiting Sergeant who arrives in the storm has a facial disfigurement. It’s as if Maurice’s worst nightmare has come knocking on the door. The inspector has only visited the day before and the sergeant seems to be following up, carrying out orders by interviewing the family. His disfigurement is covered by a copper mask, it’s smoothness belying the tangled and complex injuries underneath. For Maurice it almost seems worse that his injury is covered, because he can imagine in detail what’s actually there and imagination is worse than the reality. His mask also gives that element of disguise, it conceals his expression and leaves people wondering what he’s really thinking. There’s a definite Agatha Christie feel as a storm cuts the house off from civilisation and the family are trapped with these two outsiders. One of them a detective, trained to uncover secrets and the other has shown herself to have psychic tendencies. There are twists and turns, more than I expected in fact! I loved the atmosphere and Anita is brilliant at those little creepy happenings, that might have an innocent explanation, but start to unnerve you. The battle scenes are so well written too, perfectly capturing the chaos, the fear and a different kind of horror. This is a great read and Anita goes from strength to strength.
Published 17th August by HQ Stories.
Meet the Author
Born in Shropshire, Anita studied English and American History at the University of East Anglia. She now lives in Berkshire with her husband and three children.
You can connect with Anita via social media:
Twitter – @Ajes74
Instagram – @anitafrankauthor
The Lotus Readers 