Hiding From the Light (42 page)

The shop assistant stuck her head around the corner of the stairs at half past five exactly. ‘I’m off. You know you’ve got to lock up when you go?’ She stared round the room at the network of cables, the hanging microphones, the cameras carefully positioned on their tripods.

Mark stepped forward and took the proffered keys from her. ‘Thanks, Jackie.’ He smiled. ‘Can you slip the lock on the shop door as you go out? We don’t want any local kids coming in with witchy hats on!’

‘Sure.’ She shrugged. ‘You’re not staying here all night, are you?’

Mark shook his head. ‘No fear. Once we’ve finished setting up we’re off. We’ll come back tomorrow and take all this stuff away.’ A thought struck him. ‘You haven’t suddenly started opening on Sundays, have you?’

She shook her head.

‘Good, then we won’t disturb you. We’ll stick the keys through the café letterbox as arranged, OK? So on Monday you can collect them.’ He gave her a winning smile but already she was turning away, running down the stairs, her footwear of choice today the more silent trainer, he noted. He waited to hear her leave. The lights went out one by one in the shop downstairs, the door opened, then banged shut, and he listened for the click of the latch before he turned back to the others. ‘OK, gang. It’s all ours.’

Alice was wearing a black sweater with a large cross suspended round her neck. Her father also favoured sober colours. Mark was wearing a flamboyant red shirt and ancient cords. All were dusty.

Colin and Joe were testing camera angles near the stairs. ‘This is the place we know she’s going to appear so we want it covered from every angle.’ Colin consulted the notes. They had brought in the full ghost hunting kit: 36-ml infra-red base night shot cameras which would cover the light spectrum in which ghosts might appear. Joe had produced an oscilloscope to register any and all noises and would be measuring electro-magnetic fields and looking for extremely low frequency hits on the remote audio lab – tape-recorded onto the hard drive of the sophisticated little piece of kit he had carefully set up in one corner close to the staircase. Mark checked the position of the last two cameras and nodded. ‘Just about ready, I think.’

Colin put down his clipboard. ‘Do we want some other stuff in shot, Mark? For contrast?’ He lifted a box of brightly coloured balloon pumps. ‘What about this? Visual irony. Bring on the clowns. That sort of thing.’ He put it down with a bang in front of camera number one.

Mark moved back to squint through the viewfinder. ‘Too distracting. We can cut in shots of that sort of stuff if we want to, later.’ He paused, looking at the window. ‘It’s very quiet out there.’

Colin chuckled. ‘Nervous?’

‘Scared, more like.’ Mark shrugged. ‘Scared something will happen. Scared it won’t.’

‘Our Lyndsey put the wind up you good and proper, didn’t she?’

‘A bit.’ Mark sat down on an empty crate. ‘She has a way with words, that woman. I just wish she would say it to camera. We can’t use that stuff you got earlier without her permission.’

‘I could go and interview her.’ Alice folded her arms and pursed her lips to show her disapproval as her father reached for a cigarette. ‘She might talk to me. After all, I got her to come here.’

‘True.’ Mark glanced at Joe. ‘I guess it doesn’t matter where the interview takes place. In fact –’ He paused to think. ‘I wonder if it’s worth you taking the small videocam. It’s down in my car. It would be fantastic if she let you film her. Go for it, Alice. See what you can do. Sound only is fine if she won’t let you film. We can cut it in over something else. A few shots of her dancing round the bonfire tonight would be even better. Or, failing all else, I suppose permission to use some of the voiceover we got this afternoon.’

‘Can I take the car, Dad, as you’ve all got the van?’ Alice knew exactly when she could push her luck.

He nodded. ‘OK. Dent it and you’re dead meat. Understood?’

‘Understood.’ She glanced round the room. ‘I’m quite glad to get out of here, actually.’

‘I know what you mean.’ Joe stood back, surveying his handiwork. ‘I’m pleased we’re not staying all night. A few hours in the pub are what my nerves tell me I need. See you, kid. Good luck.’ But she had already gone.

Mark walked across to the window and looked out into the dark. He shivered. ‘I keep on thinking it’s getting colder in here. I wonder if Jackie turned off the heating downstairs.’

Colin and Joe both looked at him. ‘Time to go, mate!’ Colin said darkly. ‘I do not intend to be here if something happens.’

‘
When
something happens.’ Mark raised an eyebrow. He shivered. ‘Everything ready?’

‘Just about.’ Colin adjusted a camera a millimetre or so to the left.

Mark stood up. The atmosphere was thickening perceptibly. He stared round the room one last time. ‘OK. Let’s go. Cameras roll.’ He paused. ‘It’s all yours, ghosts. Now is your chance to make your mark on posterity. Appear on camera tonight and the whole world will see you.’ He looked round again. Joe had picked up his jacket and was shrugging it on. Colin had gathered up his old leather satchel, pushing in his glasses, notebook, pen and a spare length of cable, swinging it onto his shoulder. Silently the three men made their way to the stairs and started down. Mark came last. At the top he turned and surveyed the scene. By the window where he had been standing a thin wisp of mist drifted across the floor. He frowned.

‘Did you put out your cigarette?’ he called to Joe. He already knew the answer. Whatever he could see, it wasn’t smoke. Not yet. Nor was that tiny ball of light dancing across the wall opposite him. A reflected headlight? No.

Suddenly he could not stand still a moment longer and turning, he raced down the stairs after the others. Whatever happened in that room tonight, he intended to be as far away as possible.

A group of children were standing at the corner of the street. All wore masks and black pointed hats. Most wore cloaks of black or green nylon. One of them held a lantern. Giggling, they turned up South Street and headed for the first house with lights in the windows. Suddenly silent, the humour gone, they gathered round the door and the tallest child, a boy, beat on the wood with his fist. There was no answer. He knocked again, louder, menacingly, aware of the growing impatience in the group clustered round him. As yet, no one had answered their knock. In the house the lights went off suddenly. He hesitated, uncertain what to do.

‘Come on, Ray. We’ll try next door.’ The girl beside him tugged at his sleeve nervously.

‘I’ll try once more. We know there’s someone there.’ Ray was not to be put off. Under his mask he stuck out his chin. If they didn’t answer he was going to spray a rude word on their front door. Raising his fist, he hammered again.

The door opened slowly beneath his fusillade of blows. Inside all was dark. For a moment nothing happened. They waited, expectant, then suddenly, from the depths of the hall, a huge yellow face appeared, floating. Disembodied.

Ray screamed, and pushing the others out of his way he ran. In seconds the others had followed him.

One by one the women had arrived at the rectory, several in cars, two on bicycles and two on foot. By the time Paula got there, there were eleven seated in the sitting room. Judith showed Paula in and pointed her to the remaining seat on an upright chair against the wall near the window.

‘Ladies, I want to introduce Paula West to those of you who don’t know her, a newcomer to our prayer circle.’ She smiled at Paula, who nodded uncomfortably towards the others. She recognised several of the faces. They were all women whom she saw at weekends at the shops or on the train; some had children at the local school. There were three complete strangers, but Judith made no attempt to introduce each one. She had already taken a stance with her back to the empty fireplace, a Bible in her hand.

‘Paula has joined us tonight, ladies, because she had first-hand experience of the witch we have found in our midst. She was tricked into allowing Lyndsey Clark to look after her children and in so doing put them in terrible danger.’

There was a slight frisson in the room. Paula felt all the eyes fixed on her. She could feel the heat rising in her face. She wasn’t sure if they blamed her or sympathised, but it was not a comfortable feeling. She gave Judith a quick glance, not sure if she was supposed to say anything. Judith had her eyes closed, the Bible now clasped across her chest.

‘Dear Lord, be with us here today, present at our prayer circle.’ Judith’s voice was very strong. ‘And keep us safe on this most dangerous and dark of nights.’

Paula glanced round. Every woman there had her eyes closed. Their faces were solemn, concerned. Solid. Paula closed her own eyes.

They prayed for about twenty minutes, Judith extemporising fluently, including prayers specifically for Paula and Alex, Sophie and James. Then she recited prayers from the old prayer book and the new, before she drew them all together with the Lord’s prayer. She had scarcely finished when she opened her eyes and scanned the room. ‘Right. What are we going to do?’

‘Tell the police.’ The comment came from a tall, thin wispy woman with thick glasses. ‘She should be arrested.’

‘They’ll never arrest her without proof,’ her neighbour put in quietly. ‘Is there any proof, Mrs West? Or is it all hearsay?’

Paula felt her cheeks colour again. ‘I have to say Lyndsey has always been kind to my children,’ she said carefully. Why was she suddenly feeling disloyal? ‘I didn’t know anything about Lyndsey’s reputation until Judith here told me.’

‘You knew she was a witch,’ Judith put in sharply.

‘Yes, but I didn’t take it seriously.’ Paula frowned. ‘I had no idea she was into satanic ritual. None at all.’

There was a small gasp from amongst the women seated round the room. ‘I mean, I thought it was a joke. I didn’t think there were such things as witches. Not proper ones. The moment I knew about her, I sent my husband to tell her we no longer needed her services.’

‘Why send your husband, Mrs West?’ The question came from a short plump woman with dark hair, dyed a shade too intense for her colouring.

‘Because it was convenient,’ Paula retorted. ‘I wasn’t afraid of her, if that’s what you’re implying.’

‘There would be no shame in it, Paula, if you were,’ put in a third woman. Paula recognised her as an assistant at the bank in the High Street. ‘We should all be afraid before Satan.’

‘Until we call on the Lord to fight him,’ Judith put in. ‘And that is what Paula has done. That is why she is here.’ She sat down at last, the Bible still clutched tightly to her chest. ‘I have made the first move in the Lord’s name. I told Lyndsey’s other employer what she is and he has also sacked her. Now all we need to do is see that she finds our community is not a comfortable place for her and her kind.’

‘That’s it. Drive her out.’ The bank assistant folded her arms smugly and there was a general murmur of approval.

‘That doesn’t sound very Christian,’ Paula said, troubled. ‘Shouldn’t we try to win back her soul or something?’

Judith nodded slowly. ‘Paula is right. We should not hound Lyndsey out without giving her the chance to repent.’

Banking executive snorted. ‘Her sort never repent. They are arrogant and ignorant.’

‘Lyndsey’s not ignorant,’ Paula interrupted. ‘She got in to Cambridge.’

‘You sound as though you are on her side – ’

‘I’m not taking sides,’ Paula snapped. ‘If she has done evil she must pay for it, but we must be sure. We are not medieval barbarians!’ She wondered suddenly if anyone else had noticed that there were thirteen of them in the room, and hastily pushed the thought away. These women were her new friends. Her allies. They were on her side against evil.

‘We will be sure before we do anything, Paula,’ Judith said smoothly. ‘We will pray.’

‘Are there any other witches round here, or is she the only one? Surely they come in covens, don’t they?’ A new voice spoke from the other side of the room. All the women turned towards a young red-headed girl in a tight green jumper. She looked down, abashed.

‘Yes.’ Paula had spoken almost without thinking. ‘I know of one other witch. She’s a friend of Lyndsey’s; in fact they are cousins. Emma Dickson. The woman who has moved into Liza’s up in Old Mistley,’ she explained to those who were looking blank. ‘She has two black cats,’ she added. ‘Or had.’ She smiled.

There was a pause as the women processed this news.

‘Cats don’t necessarily denote witches these days.’ The voice of reason came from the seat next to Paula. The stout middle-aged woman with grey hair smiled at her. ‘I have three myself.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Paula shrugged. ‘I’ve fallen into the trap, haven’t I, of looking for stereotypes. Although in Emma’s case, I think it may be justified.’ Did she really believe that? She bit her lip, then she pushed away her doubt. Lyndsey and Emma were often together these days, as far as she could see. Plotting. Who knows, perhaps casting spells. Maybe out of sheer spite Lyndsey was helping Emma to seduce Alex. Maybe at this very moment they were working on a plan to snatch the children. After all, it would take two people to do that. And these women here were acting in the name of God. They would do nothing that wasn’t warranted. They would make it all come right.

‘You say she “had” two cats?’ another voice queried.

Paula nodded. ‘They’ve gone. My husband told me this evening – she asked him to help her search for them. I think we can say that her familiars, if that is what they were, have been removed from the scene.’

‘Good.’ The banking executive spoke up again. ‘I hate cats.’ She shuddered. ‘Perhaps in that case we should suggest this woman Emma leaves as well?’

One by one the women in the room nodded their agreement.

Paula looked down at her hands. She was trying to hide a smile.

Judith watched quietly. So, Emma Dickson was in the frame, too. Excellent. Mike spent altogether too much time worrying about her. She remembered that Donald James had told her Mike had been seen having coffee with Emma some time ago. At the time she hadn’t worried about it. Stupid. She had missed something there. Well, yet again she was going to have to save Mike from his all too human fallibility. She felt strangely elated. By the time he came back she would have sorted it all out. If that didn’t convince the church authorities she was the right person to select for clergy training, nothing would. She glanced round the circle again. They were winding themselves up now, the righteous indignation bubbling nicely, their hostility growing. Soon she would have to calm them down, bring them back to heel with a prayer. Tomorrow would be the time to unleash them on Lyndsey and Emma. All Saints Day. Perfect.