Authors: Rebecca Shaw
‘Good morning, Ralph.’
‘Good morning, Peter, Jimbo. Top-level conference, what?’ Ralph smiled at the two of them.
‘Sort of.’ Jimbo looked at Peter again. ‘Well?’
‘If either of you is going to stand here and tell me that the storm last night was anything at all to do with witchcraft …’
Ralph retorted, ‘We’re not, but—’
‘
But
,’ said Jimbo, ‘the whole village is frightened. They’ve been coming in here this morning exchanging news about the damage that’s been done and uppermost in their minds is the damage to the church – where else would the devil aim for, they say – and the damage to the royal oak. Some of them have blenched when they’ve seen the old tree. They are truly scared. There’s nothing in it, I know, but it is all getting very sinister.’
‘I know all their names.’
Ralph looked surprised; his bushy white eyebrows shot up. ‘You do? Excellent! Give them to me and I’ll pay them all a visit. Tell them where to get off. I’m not afraid.’
‘Neither am I, but what does one say? “Please stop consorting with the devil?” Or: “I shall report you to the police?” And: “Was it you who brought this storm down on us?” The more we say, the more credibility we are giving them. But somehow it must be stopped because I, as a man of the church, will not allow it to go on. I can feel evil in the air. But how?’
‘Tell them to damn-well give it all up; they’re endangering their immortal souls. How about that?’
Peter nodded his head. ‘They are, but they won’t listen to that. On the other hand, I think I may have found out where they’re holding their meetings now.’
Ralph’s head came up with a jerk. ‘Where?’
‘Caroline was up with the children most of the night, as they’ve got heavy colds. They sleep in the bedroom overlooking Rector’s Meadow and before the storm really got going she saw lights in the old hay barn.’
‘Right! I shall watch every night from our bedroom window and when I see lights again I shall telephone you and we’ll surprise them, the three of us – agreed?’
Peter and Jimbo looked at each other and then they both said, ‘Very well.’
On Sunday morning when Peter went into St Thomas à Becket’s for the ten o’clock service he found that almost every seat was taken. The congregation had been growing steadily since he’d first come to Turnham Malpas, but for an ordinary morning service the numbers were phenomenal. He knew enough not to congratulate himself on making a breakthrough. These people were in church because they were scared; it was a clustering together for mutual support. As he took his place and was about to say his opening prayer, his eye caught Ralph’s.
Peter was surprised to find himself recognising a Lord of the Manor look in Ralph’s eyes. A look which said, ‘This morning you will preach the sermon these people,
my
people, need.’ The incumbent, long ago at the mercy of the Templeton family to be dictated to as they wished, was under no obligation to the Templetons any longer, but Peter felt compelled to acknowledge Ralph’s request. As they sang the first hymn, he battled with himself. Ralph had no authority to be instructing him in what he should say from his own pulpit, none at all. But he was right. Peter’s theme of ‘Go out into all the world and preach the Gospel’ had no place here this morning. The congregation needed a strengthening sermon with a message of comfort – and that was what they would get.
After the service, Ralph came to stand beside Peter as he shook hands with his flock. ‘Mind if I shake hands, too? I’ll stand further down the path.’
‘Not at all. Of course you may.’
Many of the congregation thanked him for his sermon; many of them also looked to Ralph for support.
That night, Ralph keeping watch yet again from his upstairs window, saw the lights and telephoned Peter and Jimbo.
Muriel was scared. Going by chance to seek out the witches’ coven had been exciting, but the enterprise Ralph had initiated tonight was quite another matter.
Ralph kissed her cheek. ‘My dear, please don’t worry yourself. Three grown men going to rout out some silly women with turnips for heads is nothing for you to get scared about. Now go to bed—’
‘Go to bed – how can I? I shan’t sleep a wink.’
‘Of course you will.’ He kissed her cheek again, his face full of excitement.
‘I think I’ll come with you. I shall be dressed in a trice.’
‘Absolutely not, my dear. I cannot allow it.’
Reluctantly, Muriel acquiesced. ‘Very well then, but take care, Ralph, you’re all I’ve got.’
‘Muriel! But someone has to get rid of these people, haven’t they – and who better than me?’
‘No one better than you.’ They heard a knock at the door. ‘Off you go.’
‘I’ll try not to wake you when I get back.’
Muriel couldn’t help smiling. How on earth did he think she was going to sleep with all this going on? As he left to go downstairs to answer the door she called over the banister, ‘And they haven’t got turnips for heads! Remember!’
Ralph chuckled as he opened the front door to Peter and Jimbo.
The three of them walked through Ralph’s house into the garden and then via his back gate into Pipe and Nook Lane. They climbed over the stone wall and stood quietly conferring.
‘There’s no cover at all. I think the best thing is to walk round the perimeter anti-clockwise, don’t you?’ whispered Jimbo.
‘And come up on the lee-side of the door, so to speak? Yes, I agree. Let’s keep well into the hedge.’ Ralph led the way. He had his walking stick with him and he noticed Jimbo had one too. Peter had come unarmed.
The sky, still sombre and looming after the storm, afforded little light for their walk. Ralph set a steady pace and Peter remembered his heart attack and wondered whether it was wise for Ralph to have come. But there was no stopping him once he’d made up his mind. Above the heads of Jimbo and Ralph he could see the barn. There was a glimmer of light through the opening at the top of the roof. They must surely be there then. In his heart, Peter was dreading the confrontation. Who would they find? A few women in need of excitement like Ellie had said, or an evil woman set on devilry? A few sad teenagers lulled into believing like Rhett had been, or serious opposition? Real danger from a handful of fanatics, or two illicit lovers having found a safe place to meet? Then they really
would
feel foolish.
They arrived at the barn rather sooner than Peter would have wished. Listening below the opening at the apex of the roof they could hear very little: the murmur of voices, rustling of feet, nothing more.
Ralph went quietly round the end of the barn to the huge door set midway in the long wall. He couldn’t get it open. The three of them stood holding their breath but no one inside appeared to have noticed they were trying to get in. The door was made to open outwards and it took all Peter’s strength to budge it. He did it slowly, slowly, daring it to creak. He slipped inside first, followed by Ralph and then Jimbo.
At the far end, an altar had been made from an upended bale of hay. Glowing black candles were balanced precariously on it. On top of the bales which were stacked two and three high against the walls, about twenty more candles had been lit to illuminate the great barn. Six people, all dressed in black, were standing within a circle drawn on the floor of the barn. In the light of the candle-flames Peter could recognise Simone, Venetia, Valda and Thelma Senior, Ellie and …
he couldn’t believe it …
Kate. He wiped the sweat from his top lip and glanced at Ralph and then at Jimbo. They were quite motionless. Eyes wide. Staring.
The candles cast wavering shadows on the walls of the barn and on the bales of hay. The air was filled by the smell of the burning wax and, overlaying that, the reek of old dry-as-dust hay. The combined stench was suffocating. Peter shuddered. The group was chanting. There was a strange feeling in the air – a menacing atmosphere by which a man of his calibre and outlook should not be affected. But he couldn’t help it. It was like being in church yet not, just as Rhett had said. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and Peter could feel his spine begin to tingle. He and Jimbo and Ralph were still undetected. The figures in black were too intensely involved in their chanting, to be aware of the three men standing in the shadows by the door.
There was a movement just beyond him on his left. Instinctively, he flicked his head to see what the threat was. There was Cat crouching high up on a bale. Her tail wagged furiously from side to side, the movement of it playing a sinister dancing pattern on the wall behind her. Suddenly Cat leapt down to the earth floor, and covered the distance between herself and Peter in less time than he believed possible. She sprang and yowled at the same moment. Her claws, like a dozen fine needles, sank into his leg. He bit his lip to stop himself from shouting out and alerting the worshippers, but it wouldn’t have mattered. Cat’s spiteful howl had broken the absorption of the group swaying in the circle. It took them a moment to focus, for their minds were so completely out of this world, that they couldn’t take in what had happened. When they did, their reaction was like that of Cat’s.
None of the three men had fought with a woman before but they were doing it now. Only Kate stood back; the other five were clawing, biting, kicking, clutching, grabbing, screeching. As they struggled and fought, they cannoned into the bales of hay and the candles wobbled dangerously. Some fell to the floor. Small fires began here and there but no one noticed.
‘Stop it! Stop it!’ Kate screamed. She rushed forward to try to pull the women away, first one and then another. But her meagre strength could do nothing with these maniacal figures. Ralph in desperation began hitting out with his walking stick, threatening rather than striking. Cat clawed and bit whenever the opportunity arose, and the pain of that, combined with the utter surprise of these wild women attacking them, almost overwhelmed the men.
Jimbo, who was nearest to the door, managed to push it open again and get out into the field. ‘Come on! Come on!’ he shouted.
The rush of cold air sharpened Peter’s wits, ‘
THAT WILL DO! STOP IT THIS INSTANT
,’ he bellowed.
He gained a moment’s respite and he used it to say again:
‘THAT WILL DO. STOP NOW!’
But Simone wouldn’t stop. She was the one least influenced by him. Howling like a banshee, she went behind the altar with the candles still burning on it, came out with a knife in her hand and lunged straight towards Peter, her eyes wild with hate.
Kate saw her intention and darted at Simone. She pushed her back; Simone ricocheted against the altar and more candles fell over. In a second the loose hay scattered on the floor flared up.
Ralph, looking round and realising that the fire was catching hold, saw their danger. ‘Get out, everyone! Get out!’ he shouted. But the foot-wide gap afforded by the open door impeded their escape.
Jimbo tried to open it further from the outside but couldn’t. One by one, the women struggled out. Then Ralph. Then last of all Peter. They stood gasping for air, their struggle forgotten in the fear of being burned alive. Peter was standing bent over, his hands gripping his thighs trying to get his breath back so he could speak.
‘Who’s missing?’ Ralph shouted. ‘There’s someone missing!’
No one answered him, for just then a column of rats streaked through the gap of the door and squeezed out through the rotting places at the bottom, young and old, large and small, tumbling over each other in their rush to escape. The women screamed and they all hastily leapt about to avoid the rats running over thier feet. They could hear the scrabbling of their feet and the rush of their bodies through the grass as they fled certain death.
When their panic had subsided, Ralph looked around. ‘Simone’s not here,’ he said.
Peter rapidly counted heads. ‘You’re right. Stay there – I’ll go in!’Jimbo went ahead of him but neither of them could see anything at all. The barn was filled with acrid smoke and scorching flames.
‘We can’t leave her.’
‘We can’t see. ’Jimbo began coughing.
‘She was by the altar.’
Jimbo grabbed Peter’s arm. ‘Get out, come on –
out
!’
The smoke made Peter’s eyes stream with tears. ‘We can’t leave her,’ he said again.
‘Get out! And that’s an order!’ he grabbed Peter’s arm and hauled him through the door. ‘Ralph – tell him he’s not going back in!’
Kate was weeping. Venetia cried too, thick rivulets of mascara running down her cheeks. Valda and Thelma stood rigid with shock. Ellie was retching into the long grass. Of Cat there was no sign. The flames were leaping at the barn door and licking at the openings at each end. It was an inferno. No one could be alive in there now.
‘The fire brigade!’ Peter shouted. ‘We need the fire brigade!’ Jimbo dragged his mobile phone out of his pocket and was punching in 999 when they heard shouting.
Across the field from the direction of the Big House they could see someone. It was Jeremy, lumbering along as fast as he could.
‘Are you all right?’ he called out. ‘What on earth’s happened? Have you seen Venetia?’
Jimbo waved his mobile phone. ‘She’s over there. I’m just phoning the fire brigade.’
‘God! What the hell is going on? How did it start?’ Venetia ran into Jeremy’s arms. ‘Steady on, old girl. I say, steady on. You’re all right now.’ He clumsily rubbed her back as he comforted her.