I prized my eyes away from Lizzie’s deathly stare and looked behind me again. There was nothing but a bush about five feet away, but a horribly familiar feeling was slowly starting to descend over me.
Whatever it was, I couldn’t see it, but I could sense it. And clearly, Lizzie could too. Surely, if she could see or sense something, it couldn’t just be me going mad?
Surely Will could see what was happening here?
All of a sudden I wanted to be out of there, to be on my own. “Will, I think we’d better go.” I turned to the father. “I’m so sorry if I scared your daughter.” I walked away quickly; I could almost feel the parents glaring after me as I went.
Will was shaking his head. “They could have heard that story from anywhere.”
“I know. I don’t think it was that, though. She wasn’t looking at me, Will. Didn’t you notice?”
“What? She was properly staring at you.”
I shook my head vehemently. “She was looking at whatever was behind me. Don’t they say children can sense things that most adults can’t?”
Will was looking at me dubiously. “Isn’t that dogs and stuff?”
“Well, yeah. And kids. She was blatantly staring at something behind me! I could feel it too.”
I looked at him expectantly but he just shook his head.
“You’re never going to believe me about this, are you?”
“Beth…”
“Never mind. Just leave it.”
“Wait…”
“Leave it!”
I stormed off back to the Mansion House, with Will trying to keep up with me the whole way. I could feel all the hurt and the anger mixing together inside me, turning into some kind of lethal concoction, and I was worried that if I tried to say anything else to Will, my head would just explode, or I’d start breathing fire at him or something. I supposed the latter wouldn’t be too bad.
On returning to the Mansion House, I immediately took the costume back, wanting to get out of there as soon as humanly possible.
***
Will accompanied me home (we walked slightly apart from each other, mainly in silence), and when we got to my house I told him I wasn’t feeling great and that I was going to bed.
“Beth, I really think we should talk about what happened.”
I knew we should, but I just couldn’t; I was still unbelievably disappointed that I’d told him my deepest, darkest secrets, and that he’d rejected all of them. Every single one of them. “I can’t, not now.”
He stared at me blankly for a few moments, responded with a brisk “Fine,” and walked off without saying another word.
Closing the front door, I watched him through the kitchen window as he walked down my garden and along the pavement. His head was bent down and it looked like he was mumbling to himself. I stared at him helplessly; not only was I apparently losing the plot but now I was sending others crazy as well.
I sighed, feeling incredibly lousy, and went to find Keaton.
Chapter Nine
The next day I was supposed to be helping my parents out with their booth at the Market Square - on the last day of Fright Fest the market got transformed into a ghoul-related money-making machine, and my dad always had a stall there to promote the castle - but as the morning light slowly started to filter through my curtains, I decided to skip it.
When my mum came to ask if I was still going to help, I told her I felt ill and that I was going to stay in bed for a few more hours.
She looked slightly disappointed, but more relieved if anything. Like me, she probably hadn’t been looking forward to a whole day of awkward silences as we all pretended everything was OK.
So instead I spent the day wandering around the house, drinking cup after cup of tea, and generally feeling sorry for myself.
At around two in the afternoon a thought suddenly occurred to me. I’d been thinking all day that I was well and truly alone now that Will had made it clear he didn’t believe me, and now that the whole V situation was too complicated to even think about, but that wasn’t entirely true. There was another person I could go to.
If only I knew who she was.
Ever since my dream that ended up in a wrist slashing, the strange Renfield woman in the Doctor’s Surgery pub had been waiting at the back of my mind. Waiting for me to remember her words, waiting for me to go and find her.
She knew something I didn’t, and I intended to find out what it was.
I left the house and walked to the end of my front garden, peering up and down the street to see if anyone was about. When I didn’t see anything, I opened the gate and started walking towards Forest Way, which would take me out of the village. It was around a thirty minute walk to Renfield and as there weren’t any buses running on Fright Fest weekend, my only option was to go on foot.
The first time I felt like calling Will was when I was approaching Hill Top Farm; I could just about see the very top of the farmhouse looming behind the tall, leafy trees and I started to feel physically sick. I tried to keep thoughts of my previous visit right at the back of my mind.
I stopped walking and took a deep breath, trying to decide whether to get my phone out of my pocket or not. I decided against it; the thought that I couldn’t even walk to Renfield without an escort reminded me of just how much things had changed since the fall out with Veronica.
So instead of turning back, I kept my head down as I walked by, not wanting to catch even a single glimpse of Hill Top and the dark power that was lurking in the room at the end of that hallway.
I carried on walking and was glad when I could see the crossroads ahead - I was almost there.
But, of course, nothing was going to be that simple for me. As I got closer I could see the barriers along the entrance to Hartly Lane, and by the time I’d got there I could make out a digger halfway down the road towards Renfield, with road workers surrounding the machine.
One caught sight of me and immediately ran over. “I’m afraid this road’s closed, Miss. There’s been…” he paused, looking behind him, “an incident.”
I looked at the man in front of me. He was your typical road worker - big, burly and dirty from working outside - but there was something else behind his macho exterior. He might have just been tired, but I could have sworn it was more than that. He looked scared.
“Oh, no one hurt I hope?”
He glanced back towards the digger and the other men again, one of whom was standing with his arms crossed, seemingly glaring in our direction.
He turned back towards me. “If you want to get to Renfield, you’ll have to walk down Willowton Road, past the Abbey…”
I cut him off, annoyed that he’d ignored my question. “Yeah, I know the way. Thanks.”
He smiled, looking relieved; possibly because I hadn’t asked any more questions, or maybe just so he didn’t have to give detailed directions. He was shifting his weight from his left to his right leg, his arms now crossed too, staring at me in a disconcerting way. I shifted my focus away from his face and to the piece of pale blue paper that was sticking out of his shirt pocket. A couple of words stood out in bold black lettering.
“What’s a portal area?”
The man’s eyes flickered down to his pocket as he quickly tucked the piece of paper out of sight.
“None of your damn business!” The words came out perhaps even harsher than the man had intended, and he cleared his throat as he lowered his head. “Now, move along.”
I stared at the digger for a few more seconds, wondering why the hell they would require that kind of machinery for an accident, if indeed that’s what it was.
The man was staring at me again, sweat now running down his forehead in tiny rivulets. He nodded at me in a kind of ‘piss off’ way and I turned, leaving the strange scene behind me.
I started walking down Willowton Road, intrigued by the ‘incident’ but annoyed that it would take me even longer to get to Renfield; the diversion would probably add another forty minutes or
so onto my journey.
After about fifteen minutes I turned onto Rushfield Way and walked past the Abbey, before eventually turning onto Rushfield Road (people weren’t very imaginative around here when it came to road names), and after another twenty minutes or so I finally started seeing signs of Renfield. I never usually came this way and it took me a while to figure out where I was in relation to the pub.
Renfield was similar to Little Forest in many ways; it had the same kinds of houses, similar shops, and an almost identical park and church, but there was something about this village that always struck me as odd.
For one thing, the people who lived here never seemed to smile or even acknowledge others as they walked past. Little Forest was the complete opposite - you couldn’t walk down the street without someone saying hi or stopping to talk to you, whether you wanted them to or not.
After a few minutes of staring at everyone I walked past, trying - and failing - to make eye contact with someone, I got to the Doctor’s Surgery pub and went inside.
It was totally different compared to when I’d come here with Connor; the place was dead. There were a couple in one corner who gave me a look of surprise when I acknowledged them, but apart from that, there were no other customers. The rich atmosphere it had exuded before had vanished, leaving behind a vague smell of something stale and a lingering sense of depression. I guessed everyone must have been either at the Market Square or getting ready for the evening’s events.
Walking over to the bar, I was greeted immediately by the young bartender, who was tall and slim, with brown hair and average looks. I guessed from his eagerness that he must have been extremely bored on his shift today, perhaps due to not serving many people.
“Hi! What can I get for you?” he asked enthusiastically. “We’ve got some delicious Poison Punch for you today…”
I shook my head, smiling. “Actually, I was wondering if you could help me. I was in here last month, and…”
“Oh, really? I would have thought I’d remember you. Of course, I’m not always here…” He was smiling like the damn Cheshire cat now.
I ignored his comment. “Yeah… anyway, there was this old woman, kind of short, or maybe she was hunched over, with white hair. She was sitting over there,” I pointed to the small round table, “on her own. Do you have any idea who she is?”
The bartender was looking at the table, a knowing smile creeping its way onto his pale face. “Yeah, I know who you mean; she comes in quite a lot.”
I leaned closer in anticipation. Maybe I’d be able to find her and ask her what she’d meant that night.
“I’m afraid I don’t know where she lives or anything. I can only… I mean, I’ve only ever seen her here.” He shrugged, smiling sheepishly as my heart sank. “Look, you’re welcome to wait around to see if she turns up. You could have a Poison Punch in the meantime?”
I nearly said yes - God knew I could do with a drink after the weekend I’d been having - but then I remembered how truly disgusting Poison Punch was. “Actually, could I just get an orange juice?”
“Sure.”
I watched as he got a glass and filled it with juice.
“You know, there’s this massive thing going on in Little Forest for Fright Fest, I wouldn’t be surprised if the woman you’re looking for was there. I’d totally be there if…” he hesitated, shaking his head. “If I wasn’t stuck behind this bar.”
I handed over the money. “Yeah I know, I can’t really imagine her as the village fête kind of person, though.” He laughed as I took the glass, walking over and sitting on a table next to the couple so I wouldn’t look quite so pathetic in the near-empty pub.
I got my phone out and logged into Calling All Covershire while I waited. Rach had updated her page with a photo of her and Max done up in Victorian garb; it looked like Max had lost the costume argument after Will and I had left.
Rach was wearing a high necked, long-sleeved dress that pretty much covered up everything, and I smiled to myself, thinking that Max must have been extremely disappointed in her conservative choice of outfit.
I then navigated my way to Will’s page and saw his last update from the day before. “At Chillingsley for Fright Fest!” I groaned out loud, actually making the couple on the next table look over at me. I smiled at them, embarrassed, and turned back to my phone. Now I felt really bad; Will had been so excited about Chillingsley - as I had been - and I’d cut the evening short. I was just thinking about ringing Will when a text came through. It was him.
‘Hey Beth. Hope you’re feeling OK. Can you let me know when you’re well enough to come round? We need to talk. Will x’
I hit reply on the message but stared at the blank screen, not knowing what to say. I wanted to phone him, I wanted to ask him to come to Renfield to keep me company, and not just because the guy behind the bar kept raising a cocktail glass in my direction in a creepy, invitational pose.
I just wanted to see him.
But if he came now I wouldn’t know what to say; I was in too much of a mess. So, incredibly immaturely, I decided to ignore him, at least until I could get my head straight.
Instead, I sent V a message on Calling All Covershire. I didn’t believe for a second that she’d reply, but I just needed to get everything out. I went to her profile and clicked ‘send message to Veronica Summers’. I thought carefully about what to write, but in the end, I just wrote the first thing that came into my head:
‘V, I need to see you. I don’t know who else I can talk to, I tried to tell Will but he doesn’t believe me. A lot of weird things have been happening recently, a lot of things like Edinburgh. I just need to talk to someone who I know won’t think I’m crazy. If you could put this ‘thing’ between us aside for just five minutes, please reply. Love you. Beth xxx’
I hit send and sunk back in my chair. I thought it best not to mention the sister thing. If I was wrong, then she definitely would think I was crazy.
I stared at my phone waiting for a message to pop up from Veronica, but it never came.
I sat there for another half an hour or so before I noticed that the old couple who’d been sitting next to me weren’t there anymore - my mind obviously wasn’t firing on all cylinders if I didn’t even notice them leave.
I didn’t particularly want to be the only punter left so I got up to go as well, but halfway to the door I stopped, not really wanting to talk to the bartender again but knowing it would make sense to try something else.
Turning round, I walked back to the bar, smiling falsely for the guy behind it. “I’ve got to go, but could you please do a favour for me?”
“Sure!” He sounded a little too enthusiastic for my liking.
“The next time that woman comes in, would you be able to give her a message?” He nodded as I started to write on a scrap of paper from my bag. “Could you let her know that the girl she thought she recognised was asking to see her?” I handed him the paper and he looked at it with interest. “Here’s my name and number. If you could give it to her, I’d owe you one.”
“Will do, Beth.” He smiled at me and tucked the piece of paper away behind the bar. “I’m Jeremy, by the way.”
“Thanks Jeremy. See you around.”
I smiled again and walked out, hoping that he would actually pass my message on. The last thing I needed was to receive a smarmy text from him instead.
***
The apprehension hit me as soon as I got outside; it was getting dark and I still had a hell of a lot of walking ahead of me. To make matters worse, there was a fine rain in the air; the kind that you didn’t really notice much but somehow managed to soak you through.
I considered phoning for a taxi but I didn’t have much cash left, and I was pretty sure there wasn’t a cash machine in Renfield to get any out from. So instead, I zipped up my jacket and walked back the way I’d come.
The thought of having to walk past Hill Top Farm in the pitch black made me quicken my pace, and I cursed the stupid diversion
- whatever it was.
I walked down the road towards Rushfield Manor as quickly as I could, and when I saw the large building ahead of me, I walked even faster; the Manor - like many old buildings in the area - could look incredibly menacing in the dark, especially when you were alone.
Continuing onto Rushfield Way, I quickened my pace even more as I walked towards Renfield Abbey.
When I was younger, I’d conjured up images of sad, silent nuns drifting around the empty hallways of the Abbey, but despite my fear, I’d always been intrigued by the place. The Abbey was set back from the road behind a long stone wall, and not much of the actual building was visible from either Rushfield Way or Willowton Road. The sheer mystery of the place never failed to get under my skin.
I stood staring at the wall for a few moments before turning onto Willowton Road.
What I saw made me stop instantly.
There was a flock of sheep lined up against the dilapidated wooden fence.
They were all facing me, still and silent.
Every single one of them was looking straight at me.
I’d never seen anything like it, and what would have been amusing in the daytime was heart-stopping in the darkness; their eerie, blank staring caused a thin shiver to crawl slowly up my spine.
I wondered if they could sense something in me, or were seeing something I couldn’t, like with Lizzie the day before. I was sure I’d read something somewhere about children and animals having a sixth sense which adults couldn’t comprehend, but I didn’t really want to think about that while I was standing in the middle of nowhere in the dark.
I moved towards them - seeing if my sudden movement would scatter them - but they just stayed in their rigid positions, their eyes fixed steadily on mine.
Suddenly, I felt a great desire to be far, far away from them, and without thinking, I stepped back into the road.
A split second later, a car came racing round the corner.
I heard the car horn at the same time as I saw the lights, and I jumped out of the way just in time to avoid the accelerating hunk of metal. I landed highly inelegantly on my arse in the ditch next to the sheep and watched as the car drove off. It had been going too fast to see the number plate, but I’d noticed the familiar shape of a Honda Civic hybrid car as it had zoomed past; my Dad drove the same make. I thought I could write him off as not being the racing hooligan, though, as his vehicle was light blue compared to the black paint job of what had just gone past.