‘Where did you learn to cook like that?’ Lacey is still drooling.
‘French restaurants. I worked in France for a while, in my youth. Only waiting tables, I’m afraid, but I did pick up a few pointers from the kitchen staff.’
‘Well, you can cook for me anytime.’ She reaches into her bag for a sheaf of printout pages. ‘Now, see what you make of this.’ They clear a space so that the papers can be spread over the table. Drew hands around fresh beers and looks over Lacey’s shoulder, his hand warm on the back of her neck. ‘I took all accident and emergency reports over the past three months: May, June and July. Everything that would have involved the emergency services. That includes visits to the Accident and Emergency department by patients who arrived under their own steam but later came to the attention of the police. I plotted everything here, on this map. Then I did the same thing for the preceding three months. All the red dots represent some sort of incident.’
‘That should have taken all weekend, surely?’ says Drew.
‘No, it just takes state-of-the-art programming, that’s why I needed to access the office computer. Anyway, as you can see, in the preceding three months—February, March, April—there are certain cluster areas pretty much where you’d expect: the central business district, motorway junctions, roundabouts, and village centres. Now look at this. This is May, June, July.’
Gideon scans the second sheet, laying it beside the first. ‘It looks as if there’s quite a few more dots.’
‘About twenty percent more. Of course there’s bound to be variations throughout the year. Some of it can be explained by weather changes, holiday season, and so forth. If anything, the road-accident figures should have gone down. We had a lot of ice in February and there was some snow, remember? Against that, there’s lighter evenings now and more late-night drinking, which would have affected public disturbances, pub fights, agricultural accidents, that sort of thing. There are so many variables that, really, twenty percent doesn’t mean much in itself. Until we look at the distribution.’
‘There are a lot more red dots north of the city,’ says Gideon. ‘In fact, they all seem centred around Covington.’
‘Exactly. So I did a spreadsheet of all the incidents in and around Covington over the past three months.’ She unfolds another printout and lays it over the table. ‘This one is a listing of dates, times and events. These are all traffic accidents; this section, domestic and
industrial accidents, fires and so forth; these entries are violence against a person, domestic or otherwise; and this lot are break-ins, property damage and theft.’
‘And how does this compare with the norm?’ asks Gideon.
‘Well, there’s definitely an alarming increase in numbers of incidents across all categories. But it gets even more interesting when you start looking at the actual nature of the event. We don’t do a write-up on everything that happens, naturally, but we do keep a record of it for future reference. Looking at the cluster around Covington, I did an individual search for each entry and then looked up the newspaper report where there was one. That’s what took the time. Now, you see all the lines that I’ve marked with a highlighter?’
‘That’s most of them, isn’t it? What does it mean?’
Lacey is relieved to hear Drew sounding slightly less cynical. Facts and figures, that’s something he can relate to. ‘They’re all either unexplained or the result of impulse or irrational behaviour.’
‘In what way?’
‘Well, there’s been an increase in traffic accidents, including several big pile-ups on the bypass. There was one last week, in fact. But investigators can’t seem to pinpoint any obvious cause. Several car crashes resulted from car theft and road races. There’s been an increase in domestic violence and physical violence in general, including unprovoked attacks on complete strangers. Nearly all of these robberies and property damage seem to be the result of impulse rather than planning. Unexplained accidents involving machinery and equipment; one chap said his lawnmower went berserk and almost cut his foot off.’
‘Young Kenny Henderson’s tractor accident,’ murmurs Drew. ‘He said it just went out of control.’
‘Like the plane that crashed this morning.’
‘And don’t forget Charles Abercrombie,’ says Gideon. ‘That wasn’t a rational act.’
‘And there’s still the mystery of Matthew Caxton.’ Lacey sits back in her chair and takes a long drink of her beer. ‘No one else has gone missing, except a couple of teenage girls who turned up in
Peterborough. They said they just jumped on the train for the hell of it. Didn’t even know where it was going. And another thing: the
Herald
’s lost-and-found column is full of adverts for missing pets, all from around Covington. I rang the police department that deals with the dog pound, and they’re beginning to think there’s a pet thief at large. But some of the animals have turned up miles away. And a local farmer reported three heifers missing.’
‘They could have strayed,’ Drew suggests.
‘No, my love. Cats and dogs go walkabout—you don’t get stray cows wandering around Cambridgeshire.’
‘Twice I’ve tried to keep one of the farm kittens. Both of them cleared off after a few weeks.’
‘And those kittens were gorgeous.’ Lacey leans her head on Drew’s arm. ‘And you were spoiling them rotten. So why did they leave? What do you make of all this, Gideon?’
‘Inexplicable violence. Things…people…out of control. Animals leaving the area.’ He shakes his head. ‘I don’t understand it.’
‘Sounds like a what’s-its-name,’ says Drew, ‘you know, a poltergeist.’
‘There are parallels.’ Gideon looks puzzled. ‘It’s like some forms of poltergeist activity, but on a grand scale.’
‘That was supposed to be a joke,’ Drew mutters.
Gideon continues to think out loud. ‘It’s usually associated with an excess of emotionally generated psychic energy. Triss is the most sensitive and least stable. But then there’s Tom, of course; we mustn’t forget him. But there’s no way either of them could be responsible for all of this.’ He waves his hand over the spreadsheet. ‘Changes in the electromagnetic field? Or something at a less physical level?’
‘What, you mean like some sort of psychic manifestation?’ asks Lacey.
‘Oh, come on, now.’ Drew’s back to wearing his cynical face.
Gideon looks at both of them in turn. ‘Have either of you been aware of a sound in the area? A kind of low-pitched humming?’
‘What, like off the electrical grid?’
‘Something like that, yes, only oscillating.’
‘No,’ says Lacey. ‘Why? Should we have?’
‘Not necessarily. Have you heard anyone else mention it?’
‘Can’t say I have,’ says Drew. ‘There’s the line of pylons, part of the national grid. You can hear that hum if you stand underneath it, but that’s a good few miles east of here.’
The house phone rings. They all stare at it for a moment, then Drew rouses himself and picks up the receiver. ‘Audrey? Hi, what can I—’ He listens for what seems a long time. Lacey and Gideon look at each other. ‘At your place? OK, we’ll be right there.’ He puts the telephone down.
‘That was Audrey. She’s got Triss there.’
‘Yes, and…?’
‘Triss says there was some kid in the schoolhouse. And then he disappeared.’
L
ACEY, DREW AND GIDEON
crowd into Audrey’s sitting room, a space already over-congested with china dogs and crystal vases.
‘Come in, come in, find a seat.’ Concerned by this latest turn of events, Audrey is hovering over Triss, who is perched on the edge of an armchair, clutching a glass of brandy. Her face has taken on the translucency of alabaster.
Audrey takes up the bottle from a nearby table. ‘Would anyone like a dram? I thought Triss could do with one. Calms the nerves.’ Her own glass is nearly empty.
‘What’s happened now?’ Lacey bends down beside Triss. ‘Drew said someone else disappeared.’
‘Yes, I think so.’ Triss nods her head and takes a sip from her glass, coughing and catching her breath. ‘At least, I saw him, then I couldn’t find him anywhere.’
Gideon sits down opposite her, touching her hand to hold her attention. ‘It would help if we knew exactly what happened.’ His voice is slow and deliberate. ‘Start at the beginning and tell us, step by step. Take your time.’
A deep breath, then she begins. ‘I was sitting at the table, looking through Matthew’s order books. I had my back to the door and the
window, so I was facing the stairs. I felt the room change. I know that sounds ridiculous, but that’s how it was. Suddenly it was cold and there was a sort of crackling in the air, like static. I actually felt the hairs on my arms lifting. I looked up and there he was, coming down the stairs.’
‘Who?’
‘A boy. I’d never seen him before.’
‘What did he look like? How old?’
‘About seven or eight years. He looked…odd.’
‘In what way?’
‘It was what he was wearing. Knee-length trousers, with braces over his shirt. Kids don’t dress like that. The material looked thick and stiff, like wool. And he had a flat cap, the sort that old men wear.’
‘Did he say anything?’
‘No. I don’t think he saw me, although he was looking in my direction. It was as though his eyes were focused on something else. He just kept coming down the stairs, and as he moved into the light I could see him clearly. He was incredibly pale, but his eyes were dark brown and his fringe was dark under his hat. He looked grubby, his hands sort of ingrained with dirt as if he didn’t wash often.’
‘Could he have come in the back door?’
‘No, I keep it bolted. Besides, there’s no way he could have got upstairs without coming through the kitchen, and I’d been sitting there for ages.’
‘So, he was on the stairs. Then what happened?’
‘He kept coming towards me, slowly. He was looking around the room as if expecting to see something. Then he turned and went to the workshop door. He put his hand on the latch and seemed to hesitate a moment, then opened the door and went through. It closed behind him. It was a strange sound, not like usual. I could hear it echo, like in a cave.’
‘And did you see him again?’
‘No. It felt as if I sat there a long time, but it must have been only seconds. Then I called out “What do you want?” or something like that. There was no answer, so I went over to the workshop and called
again. Then I opened the door and went in. He wasn’t there. I looked everywhere. It was just like when Matthew went. There was no one.’
‘And he couldn’t have got out any other way?’
‘The outside doors are locked and the keys are on the hook in the kitchen.’
‘Windows?’
‘All shut tight. Anyway, they’re stiff. I always have trouble moving them, so I would have heard if anyone had even tried to open them.’
‘Then what did you do?’
‘I’m not sure. I think I must have come straight over here.’
‘I found her on the doorstep,’ says Audrey, ‘shaking from head to foot. I didn’t know what to make of it, so I called Drew and Lacey.’
‘Good, I’m glad you did.’ Lacey looks at Gideon. ‘What do you think?’
‘I’m not sure. Triss, would you mind if I go over and take a look?’
‘No, of course not. I can’t remember locking the front door. The keys must still be inside.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll see to it.’
‘Mind if I come, too?’ Lacey doesn’t wait for an answer.
A ghost, praise be! At last something he can comprehend. In all his dealings with the unknown, over all the years, this is the first time he has felt like a fraud. These people came to him for help, but whatever’s going on here in Gainsborough Street is totally beyond any knowledge he may possess. He relied on Cassandra’s guidance, only to find himself out of his depth and way beyond his capability.
Why should she know about this? What is she, anyway? A dream, that’s all, a mere projection of his subconscious mind. A psychotic obsession, that’s what she is. That makes him a self-deluded charlatan, no better than an exponent of legerdemain, a vendor of snake oils. But a ghost, that’s a different matter. The irony of it: he has been floundering, a drowning man grasping at threads of reality. Along
comes the possibility of an apparition and all at once his feet are touching firm ground. Ghosts are something he understands.
Gideon is sitting at Triss’s kitchen table, arms wide apart, hands flat on the tabletop. With eyes closed, he is breathing slowly and deeply, focusing his mind on the house, or rather the space the house is occupying. There are noises from above, Lacey clattering about upstairs. He admires her bravery. She was determined not to be left behind, despite her obvious fear. The first place they checked was the workshop, which they found empty, as he’d expected. He then sat down at the table and prepared to tune into the vibrations around him, while Lacey began a room-to-room search. He can hear her opening cupboards and doors, as if that will reveal the intruder. She has spirit, that little white horse. Cassandra was certainly right about that.
Drew elected to stay with Triss and Audrey. Just as well, considering how he feels about anything not pertaining directly to the material world; although, in some respects, having someone around who is sceptical can be an advantage. They keep the situation grounded. On the other hand, clinging blindly to dogmatic disbelief could make him vulnerable.
Lacey comes back into the kitchen and Gideon opens his eyes. ‘Shush. Quietly. Sit down here opposite me.’
‘Sorry,’ she whispers, ‘I was just making sure it wasn’t a real kid playing some sort of joke.’
‘Quite right and very sensible. But I don’t think we’ll find him like that. Sit comfortably, and spread your hands on the table like mine. That’s it. Now, close your eyes and breathe deeply.’
‘What are we doing?’
‘Feeling.’ Moments pass. He can hear her sigh, sense her impatience. This is not how Lacey likes to work. ‘Be aware of your body. What is it telling you?’
‘I’m cold.’
‘That’s good. Where do you feel the cold?’
‘It keeps coming in waves, like a draught of fresh air down my back. I wouldn’t have thought it was that cold in here.’
‘That’s OK. Where else can you feel it?’
‘Around my hands. And there’s a sort of tingle, like pins and needles in my fingers.’
‘Without opening your eyes, be aware of the room. Let your mind wander around it. Can you see or hear anything that wasn’t there before?’
‘No.’ Lacey is quiet for a moment. ‘There’s a smell. I know it, but…it’s smokey. Burning oil, you know, like you get from an oil lamp.’
‘With your eyes still shut, can you see a lamp?’
‘No. I could easily picture one, but it would only be my imagination, wouldn’t it?’
‘All right, then: do that. Imagine. If there were an oil lamp, where would it be?’
‘In the schoolroom, I think. Several of them, along the walls. It’s late afternoon and the room is full of children.’
‘Can you hear anything?’
‘Scratching. Like chalk on slate.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Only the clock. The ticking seems to be growing louder. And there’s another noise behind it, a sort of humming sound. Is that what you mean? This is weird.’
‘All right, Lacey, open your eyes. You’ve done well.’
Lacey shakes herself, as if pulling free from something she has been cocooned in. ‘So, what did that mean? Did you find out anything?’
‘There’s a lot of activity in here. The coldness is caused by the displacement of energy, typical of a presence trying to manifest itself in some way.’
‘What, the boy? Is he a ghost? Are there such things?’
‘There are different types of phenomena that people label ghosts. Sometimes, especially if there is a strong emotional association, a repeated activity can be recorded. Like a groove worn in the aether, if you like. Given the right conditions, it plays back like a tape recording.’
‘Like that woman who walks the same stretch of road, waiting for her lost love who never returns.’
‘Exactly. Sometimes a very traumatic event can be recorded, a
violent death, for instance. Many people claim to see or hear things at the site of ancient battles.’
‘Like on TV, when they replay critical passes at a football match?’
‘Something like that.’ Gideon laughs. ‘Totally different to the genuine, troubled spirits, people who don’t know they are dead, or who refuse to leave because of unfinished business.’
‘What about these psychics? Do they get messages from people who have died, or are they faking it?’
‘No, most of them are genuine, but some are better than others, or at least their results are more consistent.’
‘But can they really talk to the dead? People who aren’t ghosts exactly, but who have died?’
Gideon reaches out and lays a hand over hers. ‘Drew told me. About Michael, I mean. And no, I can’t contact him for you. If he wants to contact you through me, then that’s a different matter. But think, Lacey: what is it you want to hear? There’s nothing he could say that would turn time around. I can’t bring him back for you. We can’t change the past.’
‘No, you’re right. You see, I don’t have any belief, no religious faith or anything.’
‘A religious conviction sometimes helps. But sometimes it only makes matters worse. I’ve known too many people who’ve tied themselves into emotional knots trying to reconcile their anger at a god who let something happen.’ He strokes her hand. ‘If Michael thinks it will help, he’ll find a means of letting you know he survived. But you still have to find your own path through the woods.’
‘And how do I do that?’
‘By putting one foot in front of the other. Just as you have been doing.’
Lacey nods. ‘I don’t know about you, but I could do with a drop of Audrey’s brandy.’
‘So, did you find anything? Any signs of an intruder?’ Drew looks
relieved to have Lacey back with him. ‘God, your hands are freezing, what have you been doing?’ He rubs them between his.
‘No, no intruder.’ Gideon grips the back of a chair. ‘I didn’t think there would be. But the place is very active, high levels of energy moving through it. I think there are echoes of the past that are manifesting. There may be more activity to come.’ Frown lines cross his forehead, his shoulders are held high and tight. ‘I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to stay there on your own, Triss.’
‘Well, I’ll agree with you on that point.’ Audrey is doling out the brandy, glad of an excuse to top up her own. ‘Though I’m not inclined to agree about Triss seeing a ghost, or whatever it is you deal with, Mr Wakefield.’ She turns to Triss. ‘You’ve been under a tremendous strain, my girl, and you’ve not been sleeping. Sometimes the imagination plays tricks.’
‘I wasn’t imagining. I did see it…him…whatever it was.’
‘And this is the first time you’ve seen anything unusual in the house?’ asks Gideon.
‘Yes. Although—’
‘Although what? What else has been happening?’
‘A few times I thought I could hear voices, like singing. Matthew heard it, too. It was mostly at night. We thought it must have been the wind. That roof is very old and there are some gaps in the slates…’
‘Quite right.’ Audrey straightens her back, preparing to defend the walls of reality against the improbable and the unlikely. ‘Old houses play tricks—you’d know about that, wouldn’t you, Drew?’
‘Oh, yes, creaks, bangs, all sorts. But then so can one’s imagination. Play tricks, I mean.’
‘I was not imagining it.’ There is an edge to Triss’s voice.
‘No disrespect, Mr Wakefield, I’m sure you mean well—’ Audrey rocks back on her heels, ‘—but there’ll be a rational explanation for all of this, you’ll see. Trouble with living out here in the middle of nowhere, folks get fanciful ideas. Doesn’t take much to convince them they’ve got a haunting. All this psychic mumbo jumbo only encourages an overactive mind. Things are bad enough for Triss without stirring up all this superstitious nonsense.’
‘I saw him as clearly as I’m seeing you.’ Triss looks to Lacey for support.
‘I felt it, too.’ Lacey comes quickly to Triss’s defence. ‘I can’t seem to get warm. And what about the bell? We all heard that, didn’t we?’
‘That’s exactly what Audrey means.’ Drew jumps into the argument. ‘Yes, we all heard it, but we don’t all believe it was caused by some adolescent spook.’
‘Well, you explain it then.’
Gideon holds up his hands, parting the two sides of the argument. ‘All right. We seem to be fairly evenly divided, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Regardless, I don’t think you should be there on your own, Triss.’
‘No problem, she can sleep here.’ Audrey makes the pronouncement as if it settles everything. ‘I’ll make up the bed in the spare room.’
Gideon looks relieved. ‘Thanks, Audrey. I’m sure we’d all be happier knowing she’s with you. I really think that would be for the best, Triss.’
She nods her head as if defeated.
‘My pleasure,’ says Audrey. ‘She can stay with me until the situation is resolved.’
One way or another,
thinks Lacey. She takes a sip of her drink and feels it burning all the way down. She’s still cold, and still conscious of that humming sound somewhere at the back of her head.
‘And I don’t think you should go in there alone, Triss, not at all.’ Gideon is holding the glass he was given, the brandy untouched. ‘I’ll go over with you in a minute so that you can collect anything you’ll need for tonight. After that, make sure at least one of us is with you at all times.’