Despite the screech of indignation that had escaped from my lips as I’d landed on the ground, whoever it was didn’t even stop to see if I was OK.
After getting my breath back, I looked up at the fence slowly; the sheep were still there, staring down at me, eyes wide. I’d nearly had a heart attack at the sound of that horn and the screeching tyres and they hadn’t even moved an inch.
I went to stand up and realised I’d managed to get wet mud (I hoped it was mud and not something deposited by my new sheep friends) all down my jeans, turning my light blue denim into a disgusting brown. I collapsed back down in a heap on the ground, too exhausted to do anything else.
I decided that if anything else went wrong this weekend, I’d just go and live in the woods as a hermit.
“Are you hurt?”
I jumped and looked up, searching for the source of the voice in the shadows. I couldn’t see anyone. “Hello?”
Squinting into the darkness some more, I made out a figure at the other side of the road, seemingly emerging from a hedge in front of the wall.
“I said, are you hurt?” The person seemed to be wearing some kind of dark cloak and I immediately thought of the Garden Man, but the female voice I’d heard - and the fact I was sitting in the road next to the Abbey - suggested otherwise.
Not wanting to be cowering in the mud in front of a nun, I stood up and tried to get my balance.
“I’m OK, just a bit wet… I nearly got run over by that car.”
She walked over to me. “I heard your scream and thought someone might have been braking for a deer. We get a lot of animal-related accidents around here, and I usually come to check. Most people don’t report them; they just leave them in the road. Are you sure you’re not injured, dear?”
I nodded. I’d been wrong about the nuns being silent; this one sounded like she could talk for England. From what I could see of her face, her skin looked old and wrinkled, but the way she’d spoken and moved had made me think she was a much younger woman. There might be something to the holy lifestyle after all.
She looked me up and down. “Where are you walking to?”
I cleared my throat. “Back to Little Forest, I was just visiting Renfield but the diversion’s made me a bit later than I planned.”
“Diversion?”
“Hartly Lane was closed off, some kind of incident.”
The nun looked slightly concerned. “I hope it wasn’t anything too serious.”
I nodded, smiling. I didn’t really know how I should talk to a nun.
“Well you can’t walk now, you’re covered in dirt. Come inside, can we phone anyone to come and get you?”
I thought about declining, but then gave in. I supposed I could put up with my parents’ questions about what I was doing if it involved no more walking in the dark. And besides, this way I’d get to see some of the Abbey. I’d be able to find out if it was anything like the pictures in my imagination.
“Thanks, that’d be great. I’ve got my own phone though…”
“Come in and wait inside. It’s dry and it’s warm.” I followed the nun back across the road and to the hidden gate in the hedge next to the wall, looking over my shoulder before going through. The sheep had finally gone.
I felt a slight tingle as we entered the grounds and I wondered what my parents would think of having to pick me up from Renfield Abbey. I couldn’t see the surrounding garden in the lack of light but the massive expanse of darkness suggested an extremely large lawn. We walked along a brick path and through a stone archway, eventually passing through a large wooden door.
The room I entered was small and basic but someone had obviously made an effort to make it nice and welcoming; the wall was painted a summery lemon yellow and there were a few framed pictures dotted around the small space. I didn’t know if nuns had many guests but I assumed that if they did, this would be where they received them.
The nun pointed to a chair next to the small table and I sat down, looking around me in wonder.
“I didn’t introduce myself. My name is Sister Mary Eunice.”
I smiled. “Oh, I’m Beth. Nice to meet you.” My voice sounded far too polite to me, but I didn’t want to be my normal self and risk offending a woman of the cloth.
“A lovely name, Beth. Short for Elizabeth?”
I nodded. “Well, I’ll just phone my parents then if you don’t mind.” I took my phone out of my jeans pocket and dialled home. After a few rings my dad answered. “Hi, Dad. Have you finished at the Market? Any chance you could come and pick me up?”
“We were wondering where you’d got to.”
“I’m at Renfield Abbey.”
There was a pause. “Why?”
“I had to go to Renfield for something. Can you just come and pick me up please? I’m in with Sister Mary Eunice at the moment, so just ring when you get outside. Thanks!” I hung up before he had a chance to answer, and I tried to picture what his reaction had been.
Sister Mary Eunice was smiling at me. “Are they on their way?”
I nodded. “My dad will be here in a few minutes.”
“Do you want some water, dear?”
I declined, vaguely wondering if they blessed their water before drinking it. “I’m fine, thank you. I didn’t interrupt… er… anything did I? Praying or… singing?”
I mentally kicked myself. I’d clearly seen too many musicals and not enough documentaries.
The sister smiled, sitting down on the other chair. “No, you didn’t. We do have a daily schedule but we also have free time. I was just catching up on some correspondence.”
I didn’t really know how to respond to that. “Ah, right. Do you… write to other nuns?”
“Yes, and others.” She looked over at a black and white photograph on the wall. It showed a vaguely familiar-looking woman next to a much younger Sister Mary Eunice. She saw me looking and gestured to the picture. “Mary being one of them.”
I wondered how many of the sisters were called Mary. “Did she used to be a nun?”
She shook her head, laughing. “No, she’s not really the type. She was definitely family, though. She only lives in Renfield but we enjoy writing to each other. I have sixty years’ worth of letters from her.” She smiled again. “Of course, that probably wouldn’t interest you. I’m afraid I’m a bit out of touch with the young people of today.”
I looked at the photo, trying to put my finger on what was bothering me. “You said she was family? Do people stay here, even if they’re not nuns?”
“People visit, yes. Mary was special though - she grew up here.”
“Grew up?”
“The Abbey took her in as a child. I was very young when I came here, and we grew up together. We’re as close as sisters.”
I smiled at her, ignoring the confused emotions that the ‘S’ word inevitably brought up. I was glad that some friendships lasted so long.
“That’s nice. So, do you… hang out with the other nuns much?” I regretted it as soon as I’d said it. I could feel myself threatening to become beetroot-coloured and laughed nervously. “I’m sorry, I just don’t know much about the Abbey.”
Sister Mary Eunice smiled, closing her eyes at the same time. It made me wonder if nuns ever got stressed out or worked up over anything. I guessed not. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t expect many people to. As I say, we have our own time to pursue hobbies or enjoy each other’s company. For instance, Sister Margaret has been taking computer classes in her free time; she’s looking into starting a blog on the Abbey.”
I stared at her in disbelief, not knowing if she was joking or not. Were nuns even allowed to joke? I decided to smile vaguely instead. “Sister Margaret?” I thought back to Rach’s book club and her sympathy towards Margaret and tried to keep my stupid laughter from bubbling out of my thoughts and into the room.
“One of our younger Sisters. A similar age to you, I shouldn’t wonder.”
I hoped the horror that I felt wasn’t showing on my face
. “My age? Wow.”
“We have open days twice a year if you’re ever interested.”
I tried to imagine how my parents would react if I told them I was going to live at the Abbey and pursue a life of spirituality. It would almost be worth it to see their expressions. “Open days? Like Universities?”
Sister Mary Eunice shook her head, smiling. “Not quite, but with a similar purpose I suppose. The next one is in January if you’d like to come.” She stared intently at my face, trying to read my expression. “I can imagine you here, even if you can’t imagine it yourself.”
OK then. I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I smiled and nodded, and after a couple of silent seconds I tentatively asked, “Really?”
The Sister smiled and nodded herself. “There are many options in life - especially for someone as young as you - and some of them will lead you down the wrong path. You should know that God is also an option.”
I tried to think of something to say in response, but I immediately drew up a blank. So instead, I just smiled sheepishly.
“Forgive me, child. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable…” Sister Mary Eunice’s sentence fell away abruptly.
She was staring straight ahead of her, eyes wide open, as if she’d suddenly remembered something vitally important.
“Sister?”
At the sound of my voice, her head mechanically snapped round to my direction, now staring at me with those same wide, frantic eyes.
I wanted to ask her if she was OK, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak again. The look in her eyes, it was just so… haunted.
As soon as I thought that word, the Sister’s body began to violently convulse; her back arched and her arms reached out and then down, flailing around her spasming body.
I stood up quickly - knocking the spindly wooden chair backwards where it crashed onto the hard stone floor - and rushed over to Mary Eunice.
At my movement, the Sister stopped her fit and her eyes again found mine. “Beth? Beth Powers?” Her voice was high pitched and breathless, not at all like the low, soothing voice she’d been using before.
I nodded slowly, trying to remember if I’d given her my surname.
“Are you-”
“Listen to me, I can’t stay long. I think I’ve got a thin portal…”
“Portal?”
“You need to stay away from him. It’s not his fault, but he’s dangerous. You must help… you must help my son!”
I kneeled down in front of her, grabbing her arms and looking directly into her eyes. “Who?”
Sister Mary Eunice opened her mouth again, but her answer was lost in another bout of violent thrashing that ripped through her body.
It was over in a few seconds, and I watched as the Sister’s eyes changed, coming back into focus and seeing me kneeling in front of her.
“Whatever’s the matter…?” She took in my face, looked at my chair on the floor, and passed her gaze over the photo on the wall. “I’m sorry, dear. Did I have one of my… fits?”
I nodded slowly. I supposed that was as good a term as any.
“I hope I didn’t scare you. I have them occasionally, that’s all.”
She paused, glancing over at the chair again. “I didn’t… say anything to you, did I?”
I shook my head, trying to look calm and collected, and jumped when my phone started ringing. One look at the display told me it was my dad; for once, he had brilliant timing. “Well, thanks for letting me come in! My dad’s here now so I’ll just let myself out.”
Sister Mary Eunice smiled at me, again slowly and calmly. “You’re welcome, Beth. I’m sorry again about… what just happened. And you’re welcome here any time.” Her smile faded. “If you feel the need.”
The need? The wrong path? I shuddered at the look of concern on her face, similar and yet completely different to the face she’d shown me a few seconds before.
Thanking her, I walked through the door and into the garden, and as I walked out of the grounds and towards my dad’s car, I thought about her last sentence.
Did I look like someone who needed to be saved?
I got in the car and avoided my dad’s questions all the way home; I had more than enough to think about myself, even with all the nun-related strangeness that I’d already started to push to the back of my mind, safely locked away.
Things such as: was the near-collision with the car actually accidental? Had I been followed from Renfield? And could the driver of the car be a certain bad-tempered Irish man?
Nothing would surprise me anymore.
***
A story once got spread around my school about a girl in the ‘60s who was bullied so much that she committed suicide in her classroom at lunchtime, timing it perfectly so her classmates would see her swinging corpse as they got in from having their sandwiches. Of course, like most stories around here, I had no idea if it was true or not, but it was one of the more likely ones; I’d hated every second of school and had often felt like doing something drastic myself.
In most towns and villages it would no doubt be in bad taste to wear an old school uniform, do your hair and make-up in a ‘60s style and then tie a bit of rope around your neck, but that was what Fright Fest was all about.
I’d chosen this outfit as it was cheap and simple; it only involved me having to wash my old school uniform, and luckily - for whatever reason - in every varied version that had been told over the past couple of decades, the girl in the story was always a redhead. No effort needed there.
I finished the look off with some fake blood dripping out of my mouth, accidentally ingesting some of the thick red gloop in the process. It was not nice; whatever fake blood was made out of, I didn’t want to know.
***
I could hear the festival before I got to the end of Main Street, and going by all the shouts and laughter, I could tell that quite a lot of the village had started celebrating early this year.
It looked fantastic; there were skeletons hanging from the old-fashioned lampposts, cobwebs covering the windows of the local shops and black and orange streamers draped over pretty much everything. Will and I had been given the specific task of designing how Main Street should look and I thought we’d done a pretty good job.
I could hear loud rock music coming from inside the Diner, and people had set up little stalls and food carts on the pavement and the road (the main road was closed to vehicles during Fright Fest). Unfortunately, I’d missed the parade due to my little Renfield adventure but I was sure I hadn’t missed much; it was the same every year and mainly consisted of a bunch of kids making a racket on various badly-decorated floats. Walking over to a drinks vendor, I ordered a cup of tea in an attempt to keep warm. I was just paying when a nun appeared next to me, making me jump.
“Jesus, Rach.”
“Are you OK?”
I nodded. “Nice habit.” I looked past her to the rubbish-looking ghost hovering behind her.
Rach rolled her eyes at me and I heard a laugh coming from under the white sheet. “Max picked it out for me.”
“Ah.”
“I like the outfit. Marie Mason?”
Marie Mason, Suicide School Girl. I nodded.
Rach studied my face and asked again, more quietly, “Are you OK? You kind of disappeared yesterday.”
I looked down, not wanting to lie to her, but not wanting to tell her the truth either. “Yeah, I left pretty early, I started feeling a bit faint. I just needed an early night.”
Rach nodded. “I bet that corset didn’t help either, it looked rather… tight.”
I heard Max cough under his sheet and Rach elbowed him in the ribs. Or where I guessed his ribs were.
I smiled, embarrassed. “You’re probably right.” I was just thinking what else I could say when Will appeared, apparently in an oddly good mood. I tried not to look at him directly; I felt bad about not texting him back.
“Hellooooo people. Nice costumes.”
Rach looked him up an
d down, frowning at his usual jeans and hoodie combo. “And where’s yours? Even Max made an effort.” She looked at his sheet. “Sort of.”
Will raised his eyebrows. “Not my thing. I’ll go to the play and mess around at Chillingsley, but I have no desire to win the Best Dressed trophy or whatever it is. I had enough of costumes yesterday, anyway.”
I smiled, trying to act normal. I was amazed Will was even acknowledging me after everything that had happened in the maze.
Rach laughed. “So did Beth by the sounds of it. Did you go a bit mad too?”
Will looked at Rach in surprise. “Mad?”
My stomach lurched but Rach just laughed at Will’s confused expression. “Yeah, light-headed, too many layers of Victorian fabric… although I guess you weren’t wearing a corset.”
“Ah, sure.” He smiled briefly. “For a second there I thought Beth had told…” he trailed off, coughing to try and cover his near slip-up.
The damage was already done; Rach was intrigued. “Told me what?”
“Nothing.” The word that came from my mouth was too loud and harsh to sound casual.
“Come on guys, did something happen at Chillingsley? Why did you two leave so early?”
Will’s voice was low and rough, unlike his usual care-free timbre. “Nothing happened.” He looked at me blankly. “Nothing ever happens…”
I could tell Rach was going to keep pushing this, so I took charge of the situation before it got completely out of control. “See you later, guys. Ignore Will; he’s being an idiot. We’ll meet up for the awards ceremony, OK?”
Rach nodded, still looking fascinated. “Sure, it’s on at midnight this year. You know, so it’ll officially be Hallowe’en.”
I nodded and walked off, dragging Will behind me until we were out of range of The Couple. “Do you mind?”
He just shrugged. “Do you mind? You just called me an idiot. I didn’t actually say anything.”
“Would you have said something? If I hadn’t hauled you out of there?”
He laughed to himself - a harsh, bitter sound that didn’t suit him at all. “Well, that depends. Were you talking about Veronica? Or our talk? Or - what was the other thing - oh, yes! Us kissing, and then you ignoring me?”