The scream was sudden and horrible, ringing in his ears. He jumped, staring round the room in terror. Ruth hadn’t moved.
Tony turned and looked at him. ‘Ah, you heard that?’
Mike nodded. His face was white.
‘Heard what?’ Ruth looked puzzled.
‘Pray for us, my darling.’ Tony stood up. ‘Hold the room in the light. We have a visitor amongst us.’
Mike stared at Ruth in amazement. To his surprise she merely closed her eyes. He saw her lips move as she began to pray. Tony beckoned him to come and stand beside him.
‘Did you hear her scream?’ Mike tried to steady his voice.
‘I felt rather than heard something.’ Tony frowned. ‘Mike, I want you to pray. Be strong.’
The temperature was dropping as it had before when Mike was there, and the room seemed to be growing darker.
Mike clenched his fists. ‘Christ be with me, Christ within me.’
A wisp of mist curled through the room, licking at the boxes, drifting towards him. Nearby Ruth stood quite still, her eyes still closed, her lips moving almost imperceptibly as she prayed.
‘Dear Lord, Jesus Christ, protect us by the power of your name.’ Tony’s voice rang out, unwavering. ‘Send your holy angels to defend us. Strengthen us and keep us safe.’
The mist was fine as gossamer. It hung in the air, hardly moving now, veiling the light from the small leaded panes. Mike could feel the touch of it on the skin of his cheek, the back of his hand, and he shrank back, his eyes widening with horror. It had reached Tony now, and was curling round him, caressing him.
‘Our Father –’ Tony’s voice was still strong. ‘Which art in heaven – ’
Suddenly he stopped. Mike heard him clear his throat. His hand had gone to his mouth and he seemed to be having trouble drawing breath.
‘Tony!’ Ruth’s eyes flew open and she lunged towards him. ‘Tony, be strong! In the name of Christ, be strong!’
The mist was drifting past them, turning, spiralling slowly a foot or two above the ground.
Mike tried to move. ‘Christ be with us …’ He couldn’t breathe. The mist was encircling him, settling over his face, filling his nose, his mouth, forming a cold film across his eyes. The room seemed to be full of drifting shapes, but he couldn’t see clearly. Desperately he tried to take a breath, feeling as if clammy cotton were filling his lungs. His head was beginning to roar and he could feel himself losing consciousness.
And then suddenly it was over. As quickly as it had come, the mist dispersed.
Fighting to catch his breath, Mike sat down on a crate, panting, clawing at his streaming eyes.
‘Mike? Are you OK?’
Ruth put her hand on his shoulder. Behind her he could see Tony, his face white. In his hand was a small crucifix.
Mike exhaled loudly. He managed to nod. ‘What happened?’
‘It attacked you.’ Tony moved towards him. ‘Whatever it was, an energy, some sort of force, it made a bee-line for you. Mike, I want you to leave us, please. Now. Quickly. Focus your mind on prayer and walk away. Go home. We’ll follow you.’
‘But what about you?’
‘We’ll be all right. Please, just do as I ask. Quickly. This shop is a centre of something – that is why it is so haunted. The ghosts too use the energy. For some reason you are a focus. I want to see what happens when you are not here.’
Mike looked questioningly at him for a moment, then at Ruth, who had put her hand on her husband’s arm, then he gave a reluctant nod. Turning away he almost ran towards the stairs. Christ be with me, Christ within me! Somehow he managed to smile at the woman behind the counter as he headed swiftly across the floor. ‘The others will be down shortly.’
She nodded and turned to ring up a sum on the till. It was normal down here, as though nothing at all had happened. Mike heard her flat, bored request for seventy-five pence as he walked out into the street and closed the door behind him.
Taking a deep shuddering breath, he paused to stare up at the windows. There was no sign of life. From the road he could see how dirty the panes of glass were, with a rime of dust and old bleached moss clinging to the corners where in winter the damp would reach further and further into the timber.
Go home, Tony had said. And pray.
Something was going on up there behind those windows. Something which he could not be allowed to witness. Tense with fear and anxiety, he began to walk away.
55
Pushing open the front door, Paula paused and listened. Silence. For a moment she thought the house was empty, then she spotted Alex through the back window. He had been mowing the lawn. She saw his face red with effort, his hands stained green from grass cuttings. The mower blades must have jammed again. Dropping her briefcase and bag she went out. ‘Hi there! Guess who has skived off from the office early!’
Alex smiled absent-mindedly. Wiping his forehead with the back of his arm he left an endearing green streak behind as he leaned over to kiss the air about four inches from her cheek. ‘Just thought I’d give it the last cut of the year. So, how was the day? It’s not like you to walk out.’
‘No, well, I was feeling a bit stressed. Where are the kids?’
‘Lyndsey’s got them. There is some project on at the library. Then they’re going to look for driftwood or something.’ He opened his mouth as though about to say something and paused.
Paula raised an eyebrow. ‘Yes?’
He gave a reluctant shrug. ‘We are right to trust her, aren’t we?’
There was a moment’s silence. ‘You were the one telling me she was OK, Alex.’ Paula unbuttoned her jacket. She looked out of place in her City clothes and high heels. ‘What’s happened?’
He shrugged. ‘Nothing, really. I’m not worried about the kids. No,’ he considered, head on one side. ‘No, of course I’m not. Not for one single second. Actually, it’s Emma.’
‘Emma?’ Paula stared, immediately suspicious. ‘What has Emma got to do with anything?’
‘I saw Lyn this morning. She was coming out of the post office and I stopped to make sure she’d remembered about the kids. She …’ he hesitated. ‘She and Emma had some kind of altercation and – ’ he paused again. How could he tell her that he was convinced Lyn had put a spell on Emma’s car! He shook his head. ‘She is convinced Emma is in some sort of danger,’ he finished awkwardly.
‘Danger?’ Paula echoed him again. ‘For God’s sake, what kind of danger?’ She turned on her heel and headed back towards the French doors. ‘What nonsense! The trouble with Lyn is she lets her imagination run riot. I suppose this is all her witchy rubbish.’ She paused and turned round. ‘It is rubbish, isn’t it?’
Alex nodded. ‘Of course it is! No rational person believes in all that. I just don’t like the way she’s winding Emma up. The trouble is, now she’s working up at Oliver Dent’s she cycles past Liza’s every day. Emma finds it a bit disconcerting. She’s putting so much into that cottage.’ There was a pause. ‘She was very upset, by the way, that you talked to Piers.’
‘Upset?’ Paula stepped inside with Alex behind her. ‘You’ve seen her today, I gather.’
‘Of course. I went up to discuss setting up the herb garden business. There is so much potential up there. Oh, I told her you didn’t mean to interfere. After all, we all got on so well at the dinner party it would have been quite normal for you and Piers to be in touch. You have so much in common.’ He paused. ‘In fact, Piers might have rung you to thank you for the meal.’
‘But he didn’t.’ Paula absent-mindedly headed for the stairs. ‘I’ll go and change, Alex, OK? Then I want to pop into the village before the shops shut, so if you want to finish the mowing, I’ll pick up a bottle of wine for us while I’m out.’
It was only as she pulled on her thick sweater and jeans that she realised that was a stupid thing to say. They had racks of the stuff.
The bottle of red wine was for Emma. Pulling her car in at Liza’s, Paula climbed out and stare
d round. It was an idyllic spot, up a quiet lane, with views over the hedges towards the broad estuary and in the distance to the sea. She sighed, for a moment quite envious.
Emma had just lit a fire in the living room.
‘I wanted to apologise.’ Paula followed her in and offered the bottle. ‘A peace offering. I never meant to upset you by ringing Piers. I really didn’t. It was wrong of me and I’m very sorry.’
Emma gestured her towards the sofa. ‘Alex shouldn’t have told you. I over-reacted. The relationship is a bit dodgy, as you probably gathered.’
Paula grimaced. ‘Everyone goes through bad patches.’
‘Not this bad.’ Emma smiled sadly. ‘Alex has been really kind. It’s a bit scary when one moves to a new place not knowing anyone.’
‘And lonely, I expect.’ Paula tightened her lips for a second.
Emma glanced at her. She was still holding the wine bottle and she held it out. ‘Shall we open this?’ She fetched the corkscrew and two glasses. ‘Paula, you don’t mind Alex coming over here, do you?’
Paula looked away, embarrassed by her directness. ‘Of course not. It’s just – oh, you know, he finds it hard to resist beautiful women. I don’t mean he has affairs or anything – he doesn’t. At least, I don’t think so. It’s just – oh, hell! I’m not dealing with this very well.’
Emma shook her head. ‘You don’t have to worry, Paula. He’s been kind, but there’s no’ – Emma shrugged – ‘you know, attraction, not on my part, at least.’ She handed Paula a glass. ‘I still love Piers. I don’t know if we can ever work this all out, but I’m not looking for anyone else. Honestly.’
Paula nodded. ‘I believe you.’
‘I’m glad, because it’s true! You should trust Alex more.’ The comment came out more harshly than she intended, and she saw Paula’s lips purse angrily. She was about to try and soften the remark when the door opened and Max pushed his way in. He stopped and looked enquiringly at Paula, who shrank back into the sofa cushions. ‘Oh, God, can you make it go away? I hate cats.’
Emma frowned. ‘Of course. Go on, Max, out you go.’ She shooed him out and shut the door behind him.
Paula relaxed. She took several sips of the wine. It was too cold and it hadn’t breathed but it was nice. It loosened her tongue. She decided to change the subject. ‘I gather, while we’re all being so very honest and swapping gossip, that Lyndsey Clark has been pestering you.’
‘Pestering is a bit strong.’ Emma sat down beside the fire, thankful that they were no longer discussing Alex. ‘She unnerves me.’
‘She’s told you she likes to think of herself as a witch?’ Paula took another sip. ‘It’s all nonsense, of course. She enjoys shocking people. Take no notice. Actually, I’m not much better, am I. I know I told you there was a ghost here, but there’s no such thing. All old houses lend themselves to ghost stories.’ She glanced round critically as though assessing the potential for ghostly activity in the room. ‘You mustn’t let me scare you. I don’t think I had appreciated that you were living on your own. I thought Piers was here at least some of the time …’ She sighed and raising her glass, took a large gulp of wine.
Emma was staring at the fire. ‘The trouble is, I think I am a bit spooked. I’ve been having nightmares.’
‘Nightmares?’
Emma nodded. ‘Horrid ones. Had another last night. It’s getting so bad I’m kind of afraid of going to sleep.’ She gave a small, self-deprecating laugh.
‘Emma, that’s awful!’ Paula stared at her, for the first time taking in the drawn weariness on the other woman’s face. ‘Look, have you got a doctor here? If not I’ll recommend ours. He’s really good. He can give you some sleeping pills. Real knock out bombs. He gave me some and they were brilliant.’ She hesitated. ‘What are they about, do you mind me asking?’
‘My dreams? They are about witches. This place. Death. Torture.’
Paula drew back in distaste. ‘That’s ghastly.’
‘Yes.’
‘But it’s nothing to do with Lyndsey. Is it?’
Emma shrugged. ‘I don’t know. There’s something odd going on.’ She stopped and then went on. ‘Lyndsey and I have found out we’re cousins.’
‘You’re joking!’ Paula seemed genuinely shocked.
‘No.’ Emma glanced at the table where the albums and letters sent by her mother were spread out. She had spent the whole morning studying them.
‘Well,’ Paula went on thoughtfully, ‘of course Lyndsey is far more well-heeled than she lets on, isn’t she? Rich posh parents. So, I suppose, if I think about it, I’m not all that surprised.’
‘She doesn’t seem very happy.’
‘No.’ Paula frowned. ‘Although I don’t know why. She’s terribly good with our kids. They adore her. And she always used to seem happy. Painting. Writing. I think she’s working on some kind of book about plants. That’s what she was reading at Cambridge. Botany.’
‘She must be clever.’ Emma was picturing the small dark room, the shabby possessions. She did not remember seeing any books. ‘The point I was making, though, about our being cousins. It’s actually made quite a difference to me. I don’t feel quite so alone, even though we don’t get on.’ She gave a wry laugh. ‘It’s tough moving, isn’t it? Until the vicar calls.’ She meant it as a joke, but somehow the words sounded all wrong.
Paula scanned her face thoughtfully. ‘What do you think of him?’
Emma took a deep breath. ‘Well, Lyndsey worries him.’
‘So she should. That’s his job, to worry about witches.’ Paula laughed. ‘He’s quite dishy, don’t you think?’
Emma smiled. ‘I find him …’ She paused, looking for the right word. ‘Unsettling. Yes, he’s good-looking. Very. But he makes me feel uneasy. There’s something – ’ she hesitated again, her eyes fixed on the middle-distance. ‘It’s tied up with all this. The witches. Liza’s. Lyndsey. Ghosts. My nightmares.’ Her voice faded to a whisper.
Paula stared at her. She took another quick gulp of wine. ‘Do you go to church?’
Emma shook her head.
‘Perhaps you should. If you don’t like Mike Sinclair, you could always go to our church up here.’
Emma raised an eyebrow. ‘I think I shall take a rain check. I am relying on myself rather than divine intervention at the moment.’
Paula drained her glass and stood up. ‘Well, if you come from a family of witches, perhaps the church would be better off without you.’ She gave a forced smile. ‘Who knows how much has rubbed off? OK. I have to go. Just remember, don’t rely too much on my husband, because if you do, you and I are not going to get on.’
56
‘So, you see, the shop is a centre, though from our walk around the town I’d say this problem spreads over the whole area.’ Tony was sitting in the worn leather chair opposite Mike. The answer machine on the desk was blinking again. So far the message count had reached seven. ‘My guess is that there are places round here where this sense of evil is strong and those places attract paranormal phenomena. And probably always have.’ He frowned. ‘Maybe that is what caused the witch mania to focus here in the first place.’
‘What do you mean by evil?’ Mike stared at him. ‘Where did it come from in the first place if not from the witches themselves?’
Tony leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. ‘I’ll explain. The phenomena disappeared completely after you had gone, you know. We prayed for a while and then left.’ He linked his fingers over his stomach. ‘I have come across this before in different parts of the country, but never so strongly as here. There are strong energies in the land here, at the edge of the sea. These are natural energies of some sort, which seem to come up out of the ground as a neutral force which can then be harnessed for whatever uses by whoever knows how. They are just there. And people in past times who had the correct esoteric training knew how to use them. The Templars, for instance.’ He nodded wisely. ‘There are incredible energy sources under their round churches and
towers. And the Vikings and Norsemen and Anglo-Saxons harnessed this force too, for their darker northern magic.’ He glanced at Mike. ‘My guess is that your problem here has roots across the North Sea. But, whoever they were who operated in this area, their magic was strong. They knew how to harness the energy and they used it for what we would call evil purposes; and when they went away they left their evil behind them to swirl in and out with the tides, to drift in and out in the mist and it is still there, to be used by whoever knows how.’
Mike shivered. ‘I’ve seen that mist. And sensed it. It was even there in the shop today.’
Tony nodded.
‘And the witches use it?’
‘I suspect so. But so can we. We can go to the source of the energy and harness it ourselves in the service of the light.’
‘If we know how.’ Mike grimaced.
Tony got up and stood in front of the fire. ‘If we know how. The energy comes and goes, Mike. I don’t know why – perhaps it’s something to do with the seasons or the stars or something. But at the moment here, things are bad. People all over the area will be feeling it. They will be unhappy. Jumpy. The crime rate is probably going up. Violence will be escalating beyond the local norm and I’m afraid I have the feeling that you are in some way one of the catalysts, Mike. The shop is acting as some kind of vent hole for the energy at the moment and you are in some way involved. Clergymen often are targets, of course, just because of who they are. I was interested to see if the atmosphere changed after you left. To see if it followed you.’