Hiding From the Light (48 page)
Alice slumped back on the bed in acute disappointment. ‘I was so sure I had got something!’ The videotapes were blank; the sound recording a rush of indistinguishable noises, a few distant shouts and a faint rumble of thunder.
‘Can’t be helped, kiddo!’ Her father slapped her on the back. ‘It was an awfully long shot. Jolly brave of you, though!’ He clicked off the video and ejected the tape. ‘I am sure we can use some of what you saw, somehow. What do you think, Mark? Could she do some voice-over about it? No names, of course.’
Mark shrugged. ‘Maybe.’ It was unlikely but he didn’t want to disappoint her. ‘Now, can we please get on? Let’s find out what the shop has to tell us.’
The four of them stood for a moment in the street, staring up at the windows on the first floor as Mark searched his pockets for the keys. He found them at last and stepped forward to the shop doorway. ‘Ready?’
Rain streaked down the street, pouring off the roofs and into the gutters. Nearby a drain gurgled like a raging torrent. Pushing open the door, Mark led the way inside. They crowded in behind him and he shut the door.
‘OK?’ He paused. The others were watching him in silence.
Alice was the first to speak. ‘What is that God-awful pong?’ She screwed up her face in disgust.
Colin glanced at Mark. ‘It smells as though something died in the night. Not good.’
The shop was as it had been when they left it last night. Reasonably tidy.
Mark took a deep breath. He scowled, revolted. ‘Smell coming from upstairs, right? Come on. We’d better see what’s been going on.’ He led the way up, slowing as he turned the corner at the top. One by one they emerged into the room and stood there in stunned silence.
‘Was the equipment insured, mate?’ Joe was the first to speak. He stepped past Mark and went to pick up the remains of what had once been an expensive betacam. Not only had every piece of recording equipment in the room been smashed, but every box and carton of stock had been emptied and everything that was breakable had been broken. A thin film of soap powder covered the entire room, but the smell was not of soap.
‘Turds! It smells of turds!’ Alice had her arms pressed against her nose and mouth. ‘Oh God! Ugh!’
‘Shit!’ Mark bent and picked up a microphone baffle. He was not necessarily referring to the smell. Joe touched him on the shoulder and pointed at the wall. The writing was legible. Just:
‘Is it blood?’ Alice whispered.
Joe shrugged. ‘Right colour.’ It was a rusty brown.
The door had been double-locked. The windows all seemed to be secure and unbroken. As Mark tentatively tried the window latch he paused, his head cocked to one side. ‘Did anyone else hear that?’ Above their heads they could all hear now the sound of slow, dragging footsteps.
Alice let out a low moan. ‘Dad?’
Joe reached out and put his hand on her arm. ‘There’s someone in the attic, Mark. Vandals? Thieves?’ They were all staring at the ceiling.
‘Has anyone got their mobile? Let’s get the cops over here.’ Colin whispered.
Mark was biting his lip. ‘I don’t think this is a police matter.’ He was trying to keep his voice steady. ‘I’ll go and look.’ Somehow he forced himself to walk towards the small lobby where the cloakroom door was hanging off its hinges. Beside it a narrow staircase, almost ladder-like, led up towards the attic.
‘No, Mark!’ Alice let out a sob. ‘Don’t go up there! Let’s get out of here. Please.’
‘Someone has to look, Alice.’ Mark managed to give her a smile. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll be OK.’
‘I’m right with you.’ Colin was following him. ‘Joe, stay with Alice.’
‘Anyone got a torch?’ Mark stopped at the bottom of the stairs.
Colin turned back. His bag was lying on the floor. Rummaging in it, he pulled out a torch. He tried to switch it on. Nothing. Shaking it, he tried again and swore. ‘No luck. Sorry.’
Mark shrugged. As he set his foot on the bottom step, they heard the sound again, a slow dragging noise, as though something or someone was moving slowly across the floor above their heads. Mark felt a moment’s absolute terror. For a split second he froze, unable to move a muscle, his fingers clenched white on the rail which ran up the wall alongside the stairs.
‘You don’t have to go up, Mark,’ Colin whispered. ‘We can call the police.’
Mark shook his head. Taking a deep breath, he put a foot on the second step. As he shifted his weight onto it the old wood let out an agonised creak. Mark shut his eyes, sweat streaming down his face. He took another step. And another.
Cautiously, holding his breath, he reached the top and surveyed the upper room. A dim suffused light seeped in through a narrow window, high in the angle of the roof. It was enough to see that the attic was empty. Climbing off the ladder and moving a few steps forward into the roof space, he allowed Colin room to step up beside him. Both men looked around.
‘Nothing.’ Colin shrugged.
‘You OK up there?’ Joe’s voice floated up to them.
‘OK.’ Mike found his voice. ‘There’s no one up here.’
‘There must be.’ Joe sounded puzzled. ‘We can still hear it.’
Colin and Mark looked at each other.
‘Mark, Col, come down!’ Alice’s voice was shrill with fear.
Mark turned back to the stairs. ‘I think we’ve made our point,’ he murmured at Colin, who nodded. Hastily they both went back.
In the room underneath, Mark looked up. The sound of steps was louder than before. Up and down. Up and down. Over their heads or … He paused, looking round.
It was in the room with them.
What would Mike do? He had wanted to pray. To have a service.
‘The Lord’s prayer!’ he said suddenly. ‘Say the Lord’s prayer!’ He stepped into the centre of the room. ‘Our Father,’ he said loudly, ‘Which art in heaven.’ He looked at the others. ‘Come on. Pray. Surely you know it!’
‘Hallowed be thy name …’ Alice mumbled quickly. They had learned it at school.
‘Deliver us from evil!’ That was Colin.
The steps had stopped. The room was suddenly silent. All four stared round, holding their breath.
‘It’s gone,’ Mark said at last. They could all feel it. The atmosphere in the room had suddenly changed.
Alice was trembling. ‘It can’t be that easy!’ she said quietly. ‘It can’t just take a prayer!’ She was half incredulous, half cynical.
Mark shook his head. ‘No, it’s not that easy,’ he replied. ‘Otherwise there wouldn’t ever be a problem.’ He was still listening tensely; suspicious. ‘Don’t ever think it’s that easy!’
They all waited, hardly daring to breathe, but the atmosphere in the room was clearing as they stood there. Outside the window a car rattled down the hill, halted at the crossroads, paused and roared off.
Mark walked over to the window. Bending down, he lifted a broken camera onto the sill. Automatically he tried to eject the film cartridge. To his surprise it came out sweetly. He squinted at it. ‘Two thirds of this film has been used.’
The others looked at him. ‘You mean there might be something on it?’
Mark clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. ‘Might be. It’s worth a look. See if any of the others are the same.’
Two lots of film had been pulled out of their cartridges and left tangled on the floor. The fourth was intact, as were two of the sound tapes. ‘All stopped at about the same time.’ Joe tucked them into the poacher’s pocket in his waxed jacket.
Alice shoved her hands deep into her own pockets. ‘I don’t like it in here. It feels as though we’re being watched.’
‘Too right.’ Her father scowled. ‘Come on, Mark. Let’s get out of here. I think the next time we come it should be with the vicar.’
Mark nodded. ‘God knows what Stan Barker is going to say. Or Jackie!’ He gave a wry chuckle. ‘I think you’re right. Let’s go and see Mike.’
At the foot of the stairs he paused. Then he went over to the counter. There he found a felt-tip and some paper. Scrawling a large NO ENTRY on the sheet of paper he laid it on the bottom step of the staircase. ‘No point in her going up and scaring herself silly if she turns up before we’ve worked out what to do about all this.’
‘You think she won’t go up?’ Colin grinned. ‘Put that there and it’ll be the first thing she does.’
‘And probably the last,’ Alice added darkly.
Mark shrugged. ‘At least she won’t be able to say we didn’t warn her. We’ll need to come back and film that room as it is. But for now, let’s go and see Mike and borrow his VDR.’
As their van swept up the rectory drive they saw Lyndsey standing on the gravel staring up at the house. Coming to a halt beside her, they climbed out. Alice hid behind her father, not sure where to look.
‘You’ve heard, then.’ Lyndsey addressed Mark with something like venom. ‘I warned you. I warned you the whole thing would get out of hand! You have to take a lot of the blame.’
He frowned, puzzled. ‘How on earth do you know?’ The bloody grapevine! How could anyone know unless Jackie had gone straight into the shop after they left.
‘The whole place knows! Well, it’s done now. She’s had her revenge!’
‘Old Liza, you mean?’ Mark shivered. The rain had started again, harder now, and there was ice in it.
Lyndsey didn’t appear to notice. ‘Not Liza. Sarah!’ Lyndsey’s eyes were bright. Almost feverish.
‘Sarah?’ Mark frowned. ‘Who is Sarah? Is she the one that trashed our cameras? Were you behind this, Lyndsey? Because if you were, you have done thousands of pounds worth of damage and I will have that money off you – every last penny of it!’
Lyndsey frowned. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Sarah did this!’ She gestured towards the house behind her. ‘She killed the witchpricker and the man of God!’ She smiled. ‘You wouldn’t listen. I tried for so long to contain it all, but you had to stir it all up. So inevitably it came to a head. Poof! Like that!’ She smacked her hands together.
‘Killed the man of God?’ Mark echoed. His mouth had gone dry. ‘What do you mean? Where is Mike?’
‘Where’s Mike?’ She imitated him perfectly. ‘I don’t know. Seek him in heaven or seek him in hell! He’s not here!’ She paused and suddenly she turned towards Alice. ‘You were there last night, weren’t you?’
Alice shrank back. ‘I – ’
Lyndsey smiled coldly. ‘Yes, you were. Enjoyed it, did you? Spying? Did your film come out?’ She raised an eyebrow.
‘You know it didn’t.’ From behind the others Alice could manage a degree of defiance. ‘You cast a spell on it!’
Lyndsey continued smiling. ‘Either that or you were just too useless!’
‘Lyndsey.’ Mark stepped forward. He grabbed her wrist. ‘Where is Mike?’
‘Dead.’ She glared at him.
‘That is not true!’
‘Isn’t it?’ She wrestled her arm free. ‘Didn’t you see the police car? The ambulance?’
Mark’s hands fell to his sides. ‘You’re serious?’
‘I’m serious.’ Her eyes held his like gimlets suddenly. ‘This is not a game. Not some great film set with a script you can turn back and rewrite. This is your doing!’ She shot the accusation at him so sharply he took a step backwards.
‘I don’t believe you. If you had murdered Mike, they would have arrested you!’
She smiled coldly. ‘I didn’t murder him. It was Sarah!’ She folded her arms. ‘And it wasn’t your precious Mike she wanted to kill. It was Hopkins.’
‘Matthew Hopkins?’ Mark shook his head, thoroughly confused.
She laughed. ‘Matthew Hopkins. Mary Phillips. Revenge at last.’ She narrowed her eyes, then as though tired of the conversation she turned on her heel abruptly and marched towards the gate, where she had left her bicycle leaning against the fence.
They watched in silence as she cycled off without a backward glance.
‘Jesus Christ!’ Mark murmured under his breath. ‘Now what? Do you believe any of that? What exactly was she saying? Has something happened to Mike?’
They all turned to look at the rectory. They didn’t have to knock to know that it was empty. The house looked deserted. The curtains upstairs were closed.
‘There’s one way to find out.’ Colin reached into his pocket for his mobile. ‘I’ve got a mate in CID in Chelmsford. I’ll see if he knows what the hell is going on.’
‘They are definitely not here.’
Piers backed out of the lean-to shed behind the old barn and pushed the door shut, giving it an extra shove to make sure the wooden latch had slotted home. Rain was pouring down his jacket and his hair was dripping into his eyes. ‘That’s the last possibility, Em. We’ve looked everywhere. Max and Min aren’t here.’ He glanced at her. ‘Em? Are you all right?’
She had her hands to her head, her fingers pressed against her temples. ‘We have to find them, Piers. I can’t bear it here without them.’ She looked up at him, her eyes red-rimmed and shadowed, her forehead creased with pain.
He sighed. ‘Let’s go back inside. The cats aren’t here. There is nowhere else to look.’
‘They’re dead, Piers. I know they are.’ Tears suddenly spilled over onto her cheeks. ‘And it’s my fault. If I hadn’t come here, if I hadn’t brought them to Mistley – ’
‘Wait!’ He held up his hands. ‘You don’t know that. They may have gone off hiking across the fields having the time of their lives. They can smell winter coming, Em. It’s the first time they have ever lived in the country, the first time they have ever
seen
the country, and all their instincts have kicked in. They probably thought, OK. Time enough to spend months sitting by the fire, let’s go on one last gigantic hunting spree, then we’ll go home to Mum and the new Aga and the tin opener.’ He put his head on one side, cajoling her.
She gave a feeble attempt at a smile. ‘Perhaps you’re right.’ She led the way back down the wet grass towards the house. ‘So what do I do? Give up?’
‘You don’t give up. You wait.’ He sighed. ‘What is it, love? Have you got a headache again?’ He had seen her this time, her fingers gently pressing her temples as though testing for some indescribable tenderness.
She stopped on the terrace and closing her eyes, she nodded.
‘Are you still not sleeping?’
‘No,’ she whispered.
‘Then why not go in and have a lie down.’ He hesitated. ‘Em, I hate to leave you when you are so down, but – ’
‘But you’re going to!’ Suddenly she was furiously angry. ‘You don’t actually care a hoot, do you, Piers? You come down, you have a cursory look for the cats – in the name of all the gods, why do you plague me like this!’ She stopped, shocked. The last few words had come out in a strident country accent, a voice quite unlike her own.
Piers stared at her. ‘Oh, I get the message! Go home, townie!’
‘No! No, Piers!’ She grabbed his arm. ‘I didn’t mean to say it like that. I didn’t mean to say it at all. That’s not me speaking.’ She had gone white, two specks of violent colour flaring over her cheekbones. ‘Please, don’t leave me. Come in. Let’s talk some more. Have some coffee before you go. Please.’
But already he was pushing her away, trying to prise her fingers from his arm. ‘Emma, don’t be stupid. Look, I have to be somewhere.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m on my way to Woodbridge. I’m supposed to be there for lunch.’
She stared at him. ‘So, you didn’t even come to see me at all!’
‘I did come to see you. I wanted to check you’re all right.’
‘And I’m not all right.’
He hesitated. ‘You will be, Em. A good night’s sleep and you’ll be fine. The cats will come back. I’m sure of it. Look, sweetheart, I’m going to be late.’ He was turning away.
‘Piers!’
‘No, Emma.’
‘You can’t leave me like this.’ She slammed her fists against her face, shaking her head violently. ‘It’s not me speaking. It’s not.’
He stepped away from her. ‘I think you need to see someone, Em. You’ve let all this get to you.’ He glanced towards the side of the house where he had spotted a figure moving behind the wet laurel bushes. It was Lyndsey.
She moved towards them slowly.
‘Emma? What’s wrong?’ she called out.
‘She’s back! She’s here, inside my head!’ Emma was crying suddenly. ‘You’ve got to help me. You’ve got to get rid of her! Please!’
Lyndsey glanced at Piers. ‘Did I hear you were off?’
He nodded. ‘I hate to leave her like this, but I don’t know what to do for the best. I’m expected somewhere – ’
‘Stay. Please, Piers. Stay.’ Emma was suddenly almost hysterical. ‘Don’t leave me alone with Sarah! She’ll make me do things I shall regret. Please, Piers. Please –’ Emma stared at him piteously. ‘I can feel her, battering at my mind. Oh God, I’m so frightened. I don’t know what to do. What’s happening to me? Piers, please, help me!’
Lyndsey had reached them. Dropping her bag on the old table on the terrace where it flopped over into the wet, she pushed Piers once in the chest with her right hand. He staggered back, astonished. ‘Leave. Now.’ She jerked her thumb behind her, towards the gate. ‘Emma doesn’t need you any more. I can deal with this.’
‘I do need him, Lyn.’ Emma had subsided onto the damp moss of the old wall bordering the terrace. None of them were taking any notice of the rain. She rocked backwards and forwards slowly, her eyes closed. ‘I can’t hold her back.’
‘Go!’ Lyndsey mouthed the word at Piers.
He hesitated, clearly torn.
Lyndsey ignored him. She put her arm round Emma’s shoulders and gently coaxed her to her feet. ‘Come inside. We need to talk. Come in. To Liza’s. Come inside, Sarah.’
‘No.’ Emma let out a groan. ‘Don’t do this to me, Lyn. Don’t let her come back.’
Piers frowned. ‘Look, I don’t know what you’re playing at – ’
‘No.’ Lyndsey turned on him, her eyes flashing angrily. ‘No, you don’t. Go.’
He stepped aback ‘Em? What do you want me to do?’
Emma screwed up her eyes. She was swaying slightly.
‘You want him to go, don’t you, Sarah?’ Lyndsey murmured.
Emma nodded.
‘Tell him then. Tell him to go.’
Emma sighed, almost rocking with exhaustion. ‘Go, Piers. Just go. Thanks for coming.’ Her words were slurring.
‘I’ll look after her.’ The piercing blue gaze from Lyndsey’s eyes almost knocked Piers back on his feet.
‘OK.’ He threw them each a further worried glance. ‘I leave her to you. But you take care of her.’
Lyndsey smiled. ‘I will.’ She drew Emma towards the kitchen door. ‘Now, my dear.’ Guiding her through into the kitchen she slammed the door in Piers’s face and bolted it, then she helped Emma take off her boots and jacket before leading her through into the living room where she pushed her down onto the sofa. ‘You succeeded, Sarah!’ Her voice was triumphant. ‘You killed them! The witchpricker and the man who employed her!’
‘Killed them?’ Emma stared at her. Lyndsey seemed to be swimming in a haze. She couldn’t focus on her.
‘Yes!’ Lyndsey’s face was triumphant. ‘You have such power. This is your destiny. There is so much you can do. So many wrongs you can put right! For a start,’ she paused, thinking, then she smiled. ‘Oh yes, there are people out there who need to be taught a lesson. To be taught that what we do is real. Paula West is next, I think, don’t you?’
Emma’s last conscious thought was that Lyndsey had finally gone mad.
Outside, Piers sat for a moment behind the wheel of his car, staring up at the windows of the cottage. He was not at all happy at leaving Emma with that woman. On the other hand Emma had made her choices. If she had said she wanted to come home with him. If she had admitted she hated it here. If she hadn’t lost their beloved cats. He frowned, his hands gripping the steering wheel till the knuckles whitened. She had made it clear that her life was heading, for better or for worse, in other directions now. That was that. He should go on to Woodbridge where someone was waiting for him who had made it very clear she was willing to fill Emma’s shoes. She was waiting to introduce him to her parents.
He gave a last glance at Liza’s, then slowly he let in the clutch and pulled away. He did not look back.
Inside the cottage, Lyndsey was smiling. Sarah had just heard the news her father had hoped to spare her. The story was under way.