“And Connor? Do you believe him about the dress?”
I sighed, leaning back against the side of the bandstand.
“I wish I knew what to believe. I don’t think he’s going to tell the police, though. What’s he going to say when they ask how he found it? He’s not exactly going to dob himself in.”
“So why bother? If he can’t do anything with the evidence?”
I thought back to when I walked in on him in the Jerusalem room. “Either he was trying to convince me that Norman had something to do with Emma’s death…”
“Or?”
“He seemed kind of preoccupied at Hill Top, like he was looking for something else, like he wasn’t telling me everything.”
“What else is new?”
“He got really weird when he saw Doris’s letter. Like he was… I don’t know, finding a meaning in the words that I didn’t understand.”
Will shrugged, looking as perplexed as I felt.
Please protect them. No one can ever know.
What if someone did know?
What if Connor knew?
Chapter Eight
It was that time of year again: Fright Fest was coming to Little Forest.
I’d spent the last few weeks helping my parents and the other local contributors make preparations, and it was much like any other year, apart from this time it had been Will helping me, not Veronica.
Nothing odd or bizarre had happened since going to Hill Top, and it was all starting to feel like a bit of a (terrifying) dream. I’d hardly spoken to Connor since our little adventure, and I’d pushed the whole Veronica thing to the back of my mind, locked away with everything else. I was doing quite a good job of being civil with my parents, and none of us had mentioned V for days.
The first night of Fright Fest kicked off, as usual, with the ‘Castle Productions’ play. Each year the local amateur dramatics club put on an open-air performance in the castle grounds, and this year was the first time they’d tackled the story of the evil doctor. In true Little Forest style, they’d made it into an entirely inappropriate musical entitled ‘Poison Me’. I’d had no hand in setting up the production so was more than intrigued to see what it would be like, and Will thought it sounded like an excellent idea for a musical so was happy to come along with me.
We got to the castle around seven and there was already a definite chill in the air. Most of the village were making their way to the performance area, weighed down with woolly blankets and Thermoses, and I started to wish I’d brought something warm with me, too. We made our way over to the stands and got seats in the middle set of the three. The plastic chairs were all under cover but the stage wasn’t, so everyone was praying for a dry evening. Well, everyone apart from Will; he thought it would be hilarious if the actors had to sing and dance whilst getting thoroughly soaked.
I saw The Couple sit down in the right stand of seats and waved over to them. Rach smiled and waved back - she’d finally forgiven me for the whole Connor thing a few days before - but Max just raised his right hand a couple of inches and then put it down again.
The seats were really filling up now and I watched as all the locals drifted in, chatting to each other and trying to decide where to sit. Will nudged me in my side and I looked up to see Norman sitting down in the same stand as Rach, right at the front. I thought back to the Evidence Book yet again and cringed.
Everyone hushed as the lights went down and dramatic music started blaring out of the speakers. It was a good couple of minutes before any of the actors appeared so I glanced around the seats again (or the parts I could make out in the dark). I was just about to switch my attention back to the stage when I noticed a latecomer arrive. He was trying to find a seat and kept apologising for getting in everyone’s way. It was Connor’s voice.
I turned to tell Will but he was already looking in the same direction as me. Connor was now sitting in the left stand, opposite to where Norman was seated.
At that point the show started. Daniel Fields - of all people - was playing the evil doctor and he had a surprisingly good singing voice. That, however, did not make up for the sheer bizarre nature of the production. The set was meant to be a doctor’s surgery in the 1800s, but looked more like a torture chamber (which I supposed was quite apt), and Daniel pranced around the place in glee as he sang about all the people he was going to kill.
There were quite a few kids in the audience, and I was trying to guess how many complaints this would receive from horrified parents when I noticed someone leave the third stand of seats. Straining my eyes to see, I just caught a glimpse of Connor before he disappeared out the exit.
I nudged Will and we both looked over to the other stand. Sure enough, Norman was next to stand up and sneak out. I glanced at Will’s face to see what his expression was; I’d told him I didn’t want to do anymore investigating after Hill Top Farm and he’d agreed, but it was kind of addictive. From his excited smile I guessed he was thinking the same as me, so I nodded and we both stood up and walked towards the exit.
I saw a flash of white hair dart across the grass and into the trees, and Will and I followed past the impressively lit castle. Some of the light from the building, as well as the stage area, illuminated the trees immediately ahead of us, but as we walked further into the forest we were enveloped in darkness.
I tried to pretend I wasn’t about to have a panic attack, but after a few seconds of almost complete blindness, I grabbed Will’s arm and clung onto it as we walked.
We’d barely taken ten steps into the gloom when a figure crossed our path. It was Norman. From what I could see of his face from the light of his torch, he looked suspicious and overall, nervous. I flashed back to the feeling I’d had in his living room and shivered.
“What are you two doing here?”
I was too terrified to speak, thinking of the Evidence Book, but Will had the audacity to laugh. “Just taking a stroll. Public place, you know?”
Norman grunted, rolling his eyes. This was not the same man who was friends with my mum and who made a habit of entertaining tourists in the pub; this Norman was angry, argumentative and overbearing. This was the Norman who kept his kitchen table set for a five-year-old dinner date with the dead.
“Why would two young people such as yourselves be taking a stroll in the woods?” He looked down at our hands. “Without a light?”
Well, it was a good question. There was a pause while I frantically tried to come up with an explanation, and then I felt Will’s arm snake its way around my waist.
“We just wanted to be alone.” He pulled me closer to him. “If you know what I mean.”
Will looked at me, smiling melodramatically. I smiled back brightly and made a mental note to slap him later.
Will carried on. “And what are you doing here?” I really wished he would just shut up.
Norman’s eyes narrowed. “Just taking a stroll.”
Will barked a short, sharp laugh. “Actually, we were looking for Connor. Have you seen him?”
Norman looked confused, or pretended to look confused, I couldn’t tell which. “Is that the Irish lad?”
Will and I exchanged doubtful glances.
“You two should head back to the stage, you’re missing the performance. I’ve heard it’s going to be a riveting show.”
“And what about you? Don’t you want to see it if it’s meant to be so great?”
I wanted to whisper to Will that I thought Norman was being sarcastic, but I didn’t dare.
The old man laughed. “There are more important things in life than watching the local school head master prance around in a wig. Now, run off, you two. The woods are no place for young whipper snappers.”
He stood and stared at us until we turned round and headed back to the castle.
I waited until we were out of earshot and then punched Will on the shoulder. “What the hell was that? Are you trying to piss him off? And couldn’t you think of anything other than us wanting to be together?”
He just shrugged and smiled. “Can’t blame a guy for trying! ‘Is that the Irish lad?’ How stupid does he think we are?”
I shook my head, mentally kicking myself for about the hundredth time since Hill Top. “Well, he probably thinks I’m stupid enough to leave my private notebook in his front room.”
“I told you, you need to stop freaking out about that. He didn’t mention it, did he?”
“No… but he kept saying you two in that weird way, I’m sure he knows. Maybe he thought I’d been there with you.”
“Well, if he does, he’s obviously not going to do anything about it. It’s not like the police have been round or anything, right?”
We both stood in silence for a few seconds, deep in thought, and then the night was pierced with a shrill scream of terror. I gasped and grabbed Will’s hand, my heart beating rapidly.
He started laughing.
“Will, what…?” I spluttered in confusion, before laughing myself. What we’d just heard was the high-pitched feminine scream of a certain Mr Daniel Fields.
We made our way back to the stage, both of us giggling at my idiocy.
“Also,” Will stopped walking and spewed the words out in between his crazed laughter. “Did Norman just call us whipper snappers?”
I nodded, unable to answer until I’d taken a big breath and got my giggling under control. “I think it’s an older generation thing.”
“I think it’s a crazy person thing.”
“Don’t! He could still hear us.”
We waited until our laughing had subsided before carrying on with our walk back to the stage. I could hear vociferous laughter making its way over to us from the stands of seats, and I wondered if they were finding the comedy in the murder of some poor innocent. Probably.
Little Forest was a strange place to be sometimes.
I glanced over my shoulder at the shadow of the woods, but Norman was nowhere to be seen.
***
As it turned out, that night was the best opening night in Fright Fest history.
Not because of the play - that was God awful - but because of what came after. The am dram club usually got its money from small donations, ticket sales, and the annual fee that the members grudgingly paid, but there were some rich eccentrics in the area who always funded the club in the vague hope that they were giving back to the community. This year the contributions must have been off the chart, as after the costumes, sets, and equipment hire, the club still had money left over to put on a small fireworks display.
The evil doctor had just been hanged for his sins (a lovely way to end a production aimed mainly at families), and we were all told to leave the seats and go and stand on the grass in front of the castle in order to join in with the celebration of his death (again, lovely).
We all filed out of the seats (neither Norman nor Connor had made another appearance), and stood where we were told. It was a lot darker and colder now, and I linked arms with Will, nestling into his large, warm-looking hoodie.
The ‘small’ display turned out to be an extravaganza of whizzing lights and blaring music, similar to what could usually be found in Willowton and Birston on Bonfire Night, but unlike anything Little Forest had ever been host to.
I often think back to that fireworks display; the whole village - or most of it, anyway - oohing and ahhing and laughing and singing along to cheesy pop songs with the odd concerto thrown in, eyes alight with a magical glow, blissfully unaware of the blossoming evil that was slowly worming its way into their cosy existence.
I looked up and smiled at Will, forgetting the cold, forgetting Norman and Connor doing whatever it was they did in the woods, forgetting Veronica. The sky was ablaze with reds, blues, greens and golds, a spectacular symphony of lights set against the grand backdrop of the silent castle.
I sighed, as I’d been doing a lot lately, but this wasn’t a sigh of despair or grief or of feeling totally and utterly alone, it was a sigh of contentment. I let my hand slip down Will’s arm to his hand, giving it a friendly squeeze, and we stood, hand in hand, watching the illuminated sky while the music washed over me, (temporarily) erasing all my worries and fears.
I cling onto that memory with a fierce longing; it was the last night before everything went completely and irrevocably to hell.
The calm before the storm.
And the storm was a big one.
***
The second evening of Fright Fest was always spent at Chillingsley Hall - a stately home situated on the outskirts of the village of Durwich. It was the elegant and impressively grand house of Lord Willowton, and one of the main tourist attractions in the area.
Along with its annual contribution to Fright Fest, Chillingsley played host to summer fêtes and Christmas extravaganzas, and I was sure that there wasn’t a single person in Little Forest, Durwich or Renfield who hadn’t visited the Hall at least four or five times in their lives.
I used to go to Chillingsley a lot with Veronica when we were little. The part of the house which was open to the public was awe-inspiring, especially to a couple of ten-year-old girls who loved the rich colours and vibrant decorations in the luxurious rooms. The furniture, chandeliers and paintings of long gone but not forgotten Lords and Ladies evoked an extravagant past that fascinated us both. We’d done the tour of the main house and the servants’ quarters more times than we could count, and it wasn’t unusual for us to spend entire weeks playing in the acres of beautiful gardens during the summer holidays.
During Fright Fest, Lord W gave permission for the house, the grounds, the museum - everything - to be transformed into a fantastical world of ghosts, ghouls and goblins with devilishly fun games, a spooky fairground, and a lavish ‘bloody buffet’ which pretty much everyone in the area turned up for.
I was more than a little excited about it this year. I was going with Will, Rach and Max, and I was convinced Veronica would be there. She loved Chillingsley as much as I did, and if I saw her at all, I was going to grab her and make her talk to me.
If I had the guts, that was.
All of the weird things that had been happening lately were making me miss her more than ever. Sure, I had Will to talk to, but I’d known Veronica my whole life. I wished I could tell her what was going on with Norman and Connor, as well as what was going on with me. She knew me inside out.
More importantly, she knew about Edinburgh.
She was the only one who knew how I’d really got my scar.
***
The sun was just setting as we made our way across the river, over the cobblestone bridge and down the long, sweeping drive to the Grand Entrance.
The four of us had walked from the village (it only took about half an hour), and around twenty or so other Little Forest residents had left the same time we had. We’d all been laughing and joking on the way, and were in high spirits when we got to the Stately Home. There was something about this place; just seeing those giant white pillars of the Mansion House made me feel like a child again.
I grabbed Will’s hand and pulled him through the gate. “Come on guys, you’re being too slow!”
Rach rolled her eyes. “Every year. Beth, you’re twenty-one!”
I knew Will found Rach’s superior attitude highly annoying, so when he saw an opportunity to piss her off, he took it. “Let your hair down for once, Rach! You’re allowed to have fun, you know. Come on Maxy-boy, you gonna join the ‘kids’?”
I could see Max’s mouth and one of his eyes through his tangle of hair, and from what I could tell, he looked vaguely excited (which is about as emotionally charged as he ever seemed about anything), but one annoyed glare from Rach put him back in his place. “I’m good, we’ll catch up with you.”
I exchanged a glance with Will, our usual ‘well isn’t he under the thumb’ look, before we ran off down the smaller path to the main courtyard area. I was trying to look as silly as possible, limbs flailing about all over the place, in case Rach was still watching. Will was trying to look as silly as p
ossible because… well, because he’s Will.
We paid our £10 entrance fee at the little gatehouse and joined the rest of the crowd outside the main Hall. On a normal day, the building looked grand and magnificent, with the giant pillars and pristine white steps - which led up to the main door - sparkling in the sun. On a Fright Fest evening, the look was completed with synthetic cobwebs, glowing pumpkins, fake blood, and hundreds of tiny green lights twinkling in the darkness. It never failed to make me shiver.
Although the event was only just starting, there were already hundreds of locals milling around the courtyard area, with some dressed up in generic Halloween garb: witches, devils, ghosts, black cats. A lot of people, like us, didn’t bother dressing up for Chillingsley as the next night was host to the Fright Fest Finale, complete with parades, floats, and the all-important costume competition.
The main attractions at Chillingsley during Fright Fest were the Mansion House itself (you could take the usual tour of the stately home, but with added morbid decorations), equally grisly tours of the servants’ quarters, a small fairground full of old and creaky rides, marquees full of food, drink and local crafts, and the usually beautiful gardens which were transformed into a macabre wonderland. The only thing not included in the festivities was its working farm; they kept the sheep, cows and donkeys far away from the drunken locals.
I couldn’t wait to get started.
I was pulling Will towards a ‘freaky fudge’ stall when I stopped in my tracks, and he must have seen the surprised expression on my face because his tone immediately became concerned.
“Beth? Beth, what is it?”
I gestured to a sign that was pointing to inside the museum. It read ‘Dress up this Fright Fest! Be a Lady or a Lout, a Lord or a Lowly Servant! £20 each.’
Will read the sign out loud and then punched me on the right arm. Luckily it had healed pretty well over the last few weeks and didn’t hurt anymore. “Jesus, Powers, I thought you’d seen the Garden Man or something.”
I shook my head (no need to go into all that now), and walked towards the museum entrance.
Will caught up with me just as I was going inside. “Beth, it’s twenty pounds!”
I looked longingly at the display of costumes on offer, including men’s suits and cute children’s ensembles. There were also some of the most beautiful Victorian style dresses I’d ever seen.