Hiding From the Light (25 page)
Mike woke to find his own face damp, his fists flailing and grasping at the mess of papers beneath his elbows on his desk. He pushed himself upright with a groan.
He remembered every detail of the dream. Both dreams. Oh God, what was happening to him?
Christ be with me. Christ within me
.
He went into the kitchen and helped himself to a glass of water, then he walked out of the house. Almost without realising it, he pointed his car towards Liza’s.
The house appeared to be empty when he walked up the path and knocked on the door. He stood for a moment, listening to the echoing silence, then he turned to find Emma coming in through the gate behind him.
The sight of her here in the flesh in front of him made him catch his breath. Why in God’s name had he come?
‘I’ll go if you’re busy,’ he said awkwardly. ‘I just thought I would drop in as I was passing.’ He had parked his car next to hers in front of the shed she used as a garage.
Kill the witch!
The whisper in his ear was very quiet.
She smiled at him and shrugged. ‘No. Come in.’ Leading the way into the sitting room, she turned to face him. ‘Are you still witch hunting?’
He stopped in his tracks.
A moment’s silence stretched out between them. ‘What is it, Mike? What’s wrong?’ The sitting room was cold and dark without sunlight shining through the windows.
What was he doing here? He stared at her, trying to put the picture of her naked, dangling a pair of green silk garters from her fingertips, out of his mind.
‘Why did you ask about witches?’
‘We were talking about Lyndsey last time we met.’
‘Of course.’ He smiled at her, in relief. For a moment he had been terrified she could read his mind.
She sat down and turned half away from him, gesturing him towards the sofa. ‘How can I help?’
Lowering himself gingerly onto the cushions he leaned forward, his hands clasped on his knees. ‘I’m not sure if you can.’ The words were unintentionally ironic.
She waited.
He couldn’t think what to say next. As the silence lengthened he could see the tension rising inside her. ‘Look, Mike. I have had a bad morning. I’ve just been up to Overly Hall and Colonel Lawson ticked me off for looking in at the gate; just for looking at his house! He made me feel about so high!’ She held up her two hands only a couple of inches apart. ‘My mother had just rung me to tell me my family used to live there hundreds of years ago. I wanted to see it. I didn’t want a tour! Well, yes I did if I’m honest, but he had no need to be so rude! And now you’ve appeared and you are looking as though I’ve crawled out from under a stone somewhere. Why have you come?’
He took a deep breath, visibly collecting himself, desperately searching for something to say. ‘I just thought you would like to know that I hadn’t managed to talk to Lyndsey yet, although I do intend to as soon as possible. I wondered, would you rather I didn’t mention your involvement?’
‘I’m not involved!’ She frowned. The warmth and humour he had displayed when they had coffee together was gone. He looked ill at ease and she found herself reacting to him uncomfortably. ‘Please, don’t mention me at all. I have seen her. I had a cup of tea with her yesterday, as a matter of fact. We talked. What she does or doesn’t do as her religion is really none of my business and with all due respect, I’m not sure it’s yours. Being C of E isn’t compulsory, is it?’
He looked up and at last he smiled. He did not realise how handsome he looked when the preoccupation had cleared from his face. ‘No, of course not.’
She was not to be placated that easily. ‘Then I don’t see why you should have to get involved, either.’
‘Because evil is my business, as well as social work.’ He paused. ‘I take it there hasn’t been any further activity in the churchyard?’
‘No, and I told Lyndsey I wouldn’t go there again.’ She shuddered ostentatiously.
‘Do you mind me asking what you think of her?’
Emma shrugged. ‘That’s hard to say. She’s not an easy person to get to know. She’s on the defensive all the time and for some reason she sees me as the enemy. I think I shall suspend judgement. You will have to make up your own mind when you meet her.’
He held her gaze for a moment. Her eyes were very beautiful; the eyes he had seen in his dream.
Christ be with me. Christ within me …
She was smiling now. It was a warm, sexy smile. A smile he found very attractive indeed.
‘Mike, it’s cold in here.’ She had relented suddenly. ‘Do you want to come into the kitchen and I’ll put on some coffee? It’s warmer in there. It’s a bit formal in here.’ She gave a self-deprecating grimace.
Don’t accept. This is a house of evil. There is danger here
.
But the voice in his head belonged to someone else. He felt himself tensing with anxiety. This was nonsense. This was a lovely house and Emma was a lovely person.
‘Mike?’ She was standing up. Her smile had faded and she looked puzzled.
‘Sorry!’ He leaped to his feet. ‘Yes, thank you. That would be nice.’
Christ be with me
.
‘You said your family came from Overly Hall?’ The name was familiar of course. He knew Colonel Lawson. After his first meeting with the man in the lane outside this very house he had called on him and he too had been sent away with a less than hospitable greeting. He was following her into the hall.
She nodded. ‘The Bennetts. My father’s mother’s family.’
Mike stopped in his tracks. ‘Bennett?’ he repeated. It was barely a whisper.
‘That’s right.’
Christ be with me
. He closed his eyes.
‘Mike? Are you coming?’ She led the way in. She had left the radio on while she was out and the midday concert was in full swing on Classic FM.
He followed her in and then stopped dead. The two black cats were sitting side by side in front of the Aga. She followed his gaze. ‘You don’t mind the cats?’
‘No, I like cats.’ He slid into the chair she indicated on the far side of the round table. ‘Usually, that is.’ It was odd. These two were regarding him with something that felt like malevolence. He eyed the narrow intelligent faces, the large pricked ears.
The witch has her familiars. They are all evil. Creatures of the Devil,
all three
.
The voice wouldn’t leave him alone.
‘I blessed the churchyard this morning.’ He dragged his gaze away from the cats to watch her reaching for the kettle.
‘I see.’ She had her back to him.
‘Lyndsey won’t like it, of course, but if she is genuinely in touch with Satanic forces, then I have to take action. It is part of my job as a Christian minister.’ He swallowed, trying to steady his voice. ‘As you say, in our society what she believes is her own affair, but that will not stop me praying for her.’
‘I’m glad you didn’t expect me to come to your service.’
Why did that not surprise him?
‘It wasn’t a service as such.’ The cats were still sitting watching him. They were making him feel increasingly uneasy. As did the memory of their mistress dressed in a pink silk petticoat and soft revealing gown; the gown which had slipped so easily to her knees …
Christ be with me
. Please.
She had found the biscuit tin again. There was no plate this time. She just plonked the tin down on the table with the two mugs of coffee.
‘Lyndsey will be very angry if she finds out what you’ve done.’
‘I’m sure she will.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Leave that to me. Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you, but I wanted to explain in case – ’ He paused. In case of what? In case his prayers reached her; in case she realised that he sensed evil round her, close, in this pretty, inoffensive house. In case she realised that he suspected so much of the evil came from her?
‘In case?’ She was waiting for him to finish the sentence.
‘In case something happens, I suppose. In case you had seen or heard anything. In case I feel I have to do it again.’
‘Perhaps you should have done it at midnight?’ She seemed amused, teasing him.
‘No. No need for that. Broad daylight is what we want. Sunshine. Evil hides from the light.’
‘Then perhaps you should go after it in the dark when it is about.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘That would make sense.’
Did she guess how afraid that would make him? He looked up. She was concentrating on the mug between her hands.
‘I don’t think there is any need for that yet,’ he replied softly. ‘I’m sure the blessing I did this morning will suffice.’ He met her eyes. Beautiful. Enigmatic. Hostile. Like those of her cats. Why hostile? He was surprised to find the thought that she disliked him caused him a wave of something like pain. Perhaps he had got it wrong? Did she like him and dislike his calling? Or was it Sarah who disliked him? He was confused. Normally he was good at judging people. He could sense exactly where they stood on the like/dislike-the-clergy scale and where they stood regarding him personally, but just as his own feelings about her were swinging wildly back and forth, so, it seemed to him, were hers. One minute she seemed to like him, the next, the look she gave him was pure hatred.
Or was that Sarah?
Kill the witch
.
He realised his hands were shaking as he clasped them round his mug and he took a deep breath as he raised it to his lips. ‘Thank you for that.’
He stood up too quickly. ‘I’m afraid I must go. I’ve got several calls to make.’
She was smiling up at him from those beautiful eyes and before he realised it he had stretched out his hand and put it over hers. ‘Goodbye for now, Emma. Take care.’
His last thought, as he left the house, was: that woman is in mortal danger. And so am I.
It was several hours later that Lyndsey found Emma stacking pots in the barn. She watched her for a moment in silence before announcing herself from the doorway. Emma jumped visibly.
‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.’ Lyndsey hauled herself up onto the dusty workbench and sat, her hands clasped round her knees. ‘I wanted to talk to you again.’ The shadowy old barn with its veiling of spiders’ webs and crusted mud was a muted frame for her vivid colouring.
Emma pushed her hair back out of her eyes and surveyed her visitor with a frown.
Lyndsey shrugged. ‘Am I in the way?’
‘No, you’re not in the way.’ Finally Emma smiled. ‘In fact I’m quite glad of a breather. What can I do for you?’
‘I hear the man of God is looking for me?’
‘The man of God?’ Emma echoed, frowning. ‘Oh, you mean Mike?’
‘He’s been in the churchyard.’
Emma studied her face curiously. ‘How do you know?’
‘That’s easy. I can tell. And he’s taken my things. Or someone has. Unless it was you?’
Emma shook her head.
‘Then it was him. It must have been. You’ll have to find out what he’s done with them.’
‘Me?’
‘I don’t know anyone else who talks to him.’
‘Alex?’ Emma pulled off her gardening gloves and threw them down on the bench.
‘Alex hasn’t been in the churchyard. Anyway, none of this has anything to do with him.’ Lyndsey narrowed her eyes. ‘If it hadn’t been for you Mr Sinclair wouldn’t have interfered in the first place.’
‘I suppose not.’ Emma seemed less sure of her ground suddenly. ‘I’m sorry. He was up here this morning. He’s worried about you.’
‘I bet he is!’ Lyndsey was furious. ‘And it’s all your fault what with moving here and poking your nose in.’
‘Why does my moving here upset you so much?’
‘It’s because you are stirring things up.’ Lyndsey slid off the bench and went to the door where she stood for a moment, staring down the garden. She turned and looked at Emma. ‘Waking the past.’
‘My nightmares are set in the past.’ Emma frowned. ‘They are frightening. Violent. I don’t always remember them, but sometimes they are about Liza.’
Lyndsey swallowed. Her mouth had gone dry and she took a deep breath, trying to ground herself solidly. Protection. She must not forget her own protection.
Emma came to stand beside her in the doorway, taking in the western sky where a strange orange flush reflected up into the clouds where the sun was getting ready to set.
‘My mother rang this morning,’ Emma said thoughtfully. ‘I never knew it before, but apparently my grandmother’s family used to live at Overly Hall.’
Lyndsey turned and stared at her. ‘The Bennetts used to live there. My mother’s family. They lived at Overly for three hundred years.’
Emma raised an eyebrow. ‘My grandmother was Elizabeth Bennett.’
They stared at each other in silence, each searching the other’s face for a sign of likeness. Blue eyes met hazel. Dark hair compared to brown. Both were small-boned, of medium height, but there the similarities ended. Lyndsey’s sharp features, small chin, high cheekbones, did not remotely resemble Emma’s aquiline nose and oval face.
‘I suppose that makes us cousins of some sort,’ Emma said at last.
Lyndsey wasn’t sure how she felt. Her hostility was as strong as ever and yet it did explain a lot. Emma’s persistence; her immunity to the spell designed to get rid of her. Perhaps she had sensed it, this blood link between them.
Emma was watching her. ‘At least it means I’m not quite so much of an outsider.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘I was chased away from the hall this morning and I was only looking through the gate!’
‘By Lawson?’ Lyndsey shrugged. ‘He’s a funny man. He went a bit odd after his only son died. No one much has been allowed in since then. Don’t take it personally. Just keep away from him.’ She shrugged again. ‘I suppose it explains why you stirred things up. I thought maybe it was those dickheads making a film about Hopkins. But it isn’t. It’s you.’
‘Me?’ Emma shivered uneasily. ‘I don’t understand any of this, but I did meet the film people back in August.’
‘Unfortunately they are coming back.’ Lyndsey thrust her thumbs into the front pockets of her jeans. She was staring at the far hedge where Max had appeared, tail high and stately, patrolling his new kingdom. ‘There have always been cats here,’ she put in absent-mindedly.
Emma nodded. ‘They love it here. It’s heaven for them after London.’
‘It would be.’ Lyndsey’s emphasis did not flatter London.
‘Is it Matthew Hopkins’s ghost in the shop?’ Emma was pursuing her previous line of thought.
Lyndsey shuddered, her whole body reacting instinctively to the name. ‘Who else?’
‘But not here. Not at Liza’s.’
‘Of course not here.’
Emma shook her head, thinking of Flora’s warnings. ‘No, I’d have known if he had haunted this house. I’d have felt something. It is Liza, isn’t it?’
Lyndsey looked away. Again the shrug.
‘How does the churchyard come in then?’ Emma persevered. At last she seemed to be talking to somebody who knew about the past.
‘He was buried there.’
‘Hopkins?’
Lyndsey nodded. ‘It’s a strange place. Powerful. Evil. I think I’ve located his grave there. I had him sealed in. I made a binding spell, but it wasn’t strong enough.’
‘A spell?’ Emma echoed her words. ‘A witch’s spell?’
‘Of course a witch’s spell.’ Lyndsey gave her a sideways glance. ‘So, now you know why it is so important to get my things back. They are consecrated. If he’s got them, you’ve got to get them back for me.’ She moved out of the barn and headed up the path round the side of the house towards the gate.
‘Consecrated?’ Emma followed her. ‘Consecrated to what?’ She caught Lyndsey’s arm. ‘Is Mike right? Do you actually worship the Devil?’
Lyndsey wrenched it away. ‘No, I don’t worship the Devil!’ she said furiously. ‘Why do people always think that? The Devil belongs to Christianity. They call him Satan. I’m not a Satanist! I’m a witch.I worship the goddess. It’s quite different. You of all people should know that if you are of Sarah’s blood!’
Her face flushed with anger, she turned and ran to the gate where she grabbed her bicycle from the hedge.
‘Wait!’ Emma shouted after her. ‘Who was Sarah?’
‘You’ll find out soon enough.’ Lyndsey straddled her bike.
‘I need to know now,’ Emma called, but Lyndsey was already pedalling down the lane.