‘Right.’ She put her shaking hand to the ignition key. ‘Well, in case you hadn’t realised, I am not a bloody taxi! I am not taking you to Scotland.’ But where was she going to take him? She didn’t know.
Pulling away from the kerb she was startled by the sudden blast of a car horn behind her. The first car she had seen in ages tore past in the fast lane, leaving her gasping with shock. She had stamped on the brakes and for a moment waited, her eyes closed, trying to pull herself together, until at last she managed to look up and slowly engage gear once more.
Her mind was whirling, trying to think, trying to be calm, trying to decide what to do.
I am still here, Miss Shelley!
She jumped. He spoke softly, his breath warm on her ear. It was easy to hear him above the scream of the engine.
Remember we are going to Scotland! Please don’t imagine you can fool me. I shall know if we cease going north.
North. She was trying to picture the map. She was heading over the river and into Suffolk. By no stretch of the imagination was she on her way to Scotland; as far as she could remember she was going east. Still towards the sea.
The car was picking up speed again. Her brain was beginning to work, sorting out her options.
A chuckle came from the seat behind her.
I can read your thoughts, my dear. A talent I always had with women. We will turn off the turnpike at the first opportunity. Once we get there, then we can resume our so pleasant dalliance. But not until then, I fear.
Anna felt the heat coming to her cheeks. ‘I don’t think so.’ She took a deep breath and gritted her teeth. ‘I am going to need petrol soon. So, my lord, I trust you understand enough about modern transport to believe me when I say we are going nowhere without it.’ Her eyes flicked to the dashboard. The needle was indeed dancing on the red. The tank was emptying fast.
There was no answer from the back.
She drove on. Ahead, the turning to Woodbridge led off the road.
Here. We will leave the turnpike here.
She gave a cry of fear as a cold hand closed over hers. She had no choice. The car veered off the A14 and turned north.
She was past Woodbridge on the A12 when at last, in answer to her prayer, she saw a service station ahead.
Drawing up at the pumps she sat for a moment taking deep breaths. The bottle lay beside her on the seat. There was no comment from behind. Presumably her remark about petrol had somehow been understood.
She had no handbag with her. How was she going to pay for the petrol? In spite of herself she smiled. Was her unwelcome passenger going to present her with ghostly gold sovereigns to complete the transaction? Half-heartedly she leaned forward to open the glove pocket. Of course. She always left a ten pound note there, tucked into the A-Z for just such an emergency. And there too was her forgotten mobile phone.
She was still desperately trying to picture the map in her head. It was years since she had driven this way, but when she was married she and Felix had come up here sometimes after visiting Phyllis, heading for the coast. Exploring. Suddenly she had an idea. Aldeburgh. Somehow she must guard her thoughts. Fend him off. Keep him out of her head. She would head for Aldeburgh. There she could bring the car right up to the sea’s edge; to the wild shingle coast. And she knew exactly how she was going to convince him that that was the perfect place for them to go.
Leaving the bottle on the seat she climbed out of the car. Ten pounds’ worth was not going to get her far, but with luck it would get her to the sea. Her hands were still shaking as she unscrewed the petrol cap and reached for the nozzle. She glanced into the back of the car. It was in shadow, but there would be nothing to see anyway. Was that, she wondered, why he was seeking all this power? Was that what he wanted, to find the means to bring him back to life?
In the shop she paid her ten pounds and then ducked into the ladies. Shutting the door she stood for a moment with her back against it, her eyes closed. Had he followed her? Was he in there with her? Oh God, if she went to the loo would he be watching? She stretched out a hand in front of her. It encountered nothing. How had he done it? On the bridge, he had gripped her wrist. He had felt like flesh and blood. He had been strong. She had sensed him, smelt him.
‘So, are you there?’ She whispered the words out loud. ‘Are you so little the gentleman that you would follow a lady in here?’
There was no answer.
Had he left her then? Was he still in the car? Or was he outside the door waiting? She swallowed hard. Then she reached cautiously into her pocket for the mobile. ‘Please. Answer. Serena?’
Serena’s phone was switched off. The phone service picked up the call. Sobbing with frustration Anna left her number in a whisper. ‘I am heading towards Aldeburgh. I’m going to throw it in the sea! Serena, tell them Carstairs is with me. He isn’t in Toby any more. Help me. Please!’
15
When Serena had arrived in Lavenham at last it was after midnight and Toby was once more asleep. Phyllis led her into her kitchen where it was warm. ‘Don’t be too horrified when you see him. I hit him over the head with the poker and he’s got a terrible lump.’ She chuckled. ‘It did the trick though. Carstairs vanished!’
Serena smiled. ‘I didn’t think of that. You’re obviously a woman of action!’ She surveyed her elderly hostess admiringly as she explained who she was. Phyllis was obviously not only a very brave woman, she was also far more alert than her visitor, who after the long drive was exhausted. ‘So, what do we do? Should we wake Toby?’
They decided, on the principle of letting sleeping dogs lie, that they wouldn’t wake him yet. He too had been exhausted and he had a headache and they would achieve nothing by dragging him downstairs. After all, Anna and the bottle weren’t there and he could be no danger – or help – to her. Not now. Not tonight. Not until they knew where she was.
They didn’t have to wait long. Serena, asleep on the sofa in the sitting room by the fire, heard Toby as he stumbled downstairs. Climbing to her feet she went to meet him in the hall. ‘I heard about your run in with the poker.’ She eyed his bruise.
He nodded ruefully, his hand to his head. ‘I came down to get a drink of water. I’ve got a filthy headache.’ He followed her into the kitchen. ‘But you will be glad to hear it did the trick. Carstairs is gone.’
‘Are you sure?’ Phyllis appeared behind them. She had heard him come downstairs.
She waved her guests into chairs at the kitchen table, gave Toby a glass of water then set about making them all a pot of coffee. The cat, Jolly, was sitting in front of the Aga licking its paws.
‘I’m sure. I don’t know how, but I can sense it.’ Toby’s face was grey with fatigue and the huge bruise on his forehead was swollen. Outside it was still dark.
Serena ran her fingers through her hair. ‘You don’t think he followed Anna? After all, she has the bottle.’
‘Dear God!’ Toby stared at her in horror. ‘That never occurred to me. I thought it was me he was using. Because we were related.’ ‘It was you,’ Serena said thoughtfully. ‘But if the bottle has gone maybe he is not interested in you anymore. You can’t help him while you are here; you can’t help him unless you are with her.’
‘I wish I knew where she is. Do you think she’s gone home?’ Toby stood up and went over to the window. Lifting the curtain he peered out. There was still no sign of it getting light.
‘Not if she’s running away.’ Phyllis was sitting staring at the coffee pot. ‘She’ll have gone somewhere none of us will find her. As far as she is concerned Toby is the enemy.’ She glanced at him. ‘I’m sorry, my dear. But it’s true.’
‘And always will be?’ Toby groaned in despair.
Phyllis glanced at Serena helplessly. ‘I do so hope not.’
Serena shrugged. ‘I’m out of my depth. I’ve only studied ancient Egypt. I’ve never had to cope with a Victorian occultist. I don’t know where to start.’
‘Mary had a little lamb,’ Toby said softly. ‘
That worked.’
For a moment they were all silent.
Outside, in Serena’s car, her phone had finished charging. It lay forgotten, nursing its secrets in silence.
16
Anna tore open the back door of the car and looked in. ‘Where are you?’ Her anger had temporarily conquered her fear.
There was no reply.
Biting her lip she slammed the door and went round to the driver’s side. Pulling that door open in turn she stared down at the bubble-wrapped package lying on the passenger seat. She didn’t notice the infinitesimal patch of damp beneath it on the dark leather.
What would happen if she dumped it here? She could throw it into the bins she could see at the side of the garage building. Drive off and leave it. Or she could take it to a bottle bank. Toss it in amongst a thousand wine bottles to be ground to dust and recycled into some innocuous item which would find its way onto a supermarket shelf somewhere.
Don’t be foolish. Do you realise what would happen if it was broken?
Somehow he had picked up on that thought.
The power that would be released would devastate the world! We want that power, you and I. Oh, Miss Shelley, we could do so much with that power!
‘What? What do you want to do with all this power?’ Smothering a sob of frustration, Anna fired the question into the dark. ‘What is it with you men? Why do you all want to dominate the world?’
A mere woman would not understand such matters, Miss Shelley. The tone was mocking.
‘And another thing, I wish you’d stop calling me Miss Shelley. That is not my name!’ Anna snapped back at him. ‘My name, if you wish to be so formal, is Anna Fox.’
A car had driven up and parked opposite her on the far side of the pump. She saw the driver stare at her, startled, as he reached for the nozzle.
Very well, I will call you Anna. And please, do not try running away from me. I can move at the speed of thought. Get in, my dear. We have to go north! I have everything we need at Carstairs Castle. My laboratory is waiting.
‘I doubt it!’ Anna retorted. She climbed in reluctantly, tossing her mobile onto the other seat to lie beside the bottle, and reached for the seat belt. With the car light off her neighbour couldn’t see who she was talking to and talking to her passenger seemed to be the right thing to do. ‘If I remember rightly Carstairs Castle is a ruin. I think the whole place has been razed to the ground.’ She put the key in the ignition and turned it, waiting for his reaction to that piece of news. None came. She smiled to herself quietly. ‘As it happens I do know the place to go. I’ve thought of the perfect place of power.’ She glanced over her shoulder towards the empty seat. Would he suspect her plan? See through her? ‘Trust me, my lord. Let me show you.’
She waited.
Silence.
She could feel the small hairs on the back of her neck stirring.
‘OK. Let’s go.’ It couldn’t be that easy. Surely he was not going to believe he had won her over? Was he really that conceited? Carefully she engaged gear and pulled back out onto the A12 once more. Somehow she had to veil her thoughts. She couldn’t let him know that she had reached a decision. That she was going to fling the bottle into the sea, to let it sink or float or grind to pieces amongst the shingle. Mary had a little lamb. She held her breath, listening. Oh God, it was worse when he was quiet. She didn’t know if he was still there. She could imagine him sitting on the seat – was he relaxed, legs crossed, watching the passing scenery or was he leaning forward, his hand on the back of the seat just behind her neck? She jerked forward slightly, feeling the tiptoe of fear again. Mary had a little lamb. Concentrate on anything but where she was going. What she was going to do.
As she approached the turning towards Aldeburgh she slowed the car, her hands gripping the wheel, holding her breath. The road she took ran due east.
This is the wrong way. We need to go north!
She smiled grimly, almost relieved that the silence had been broken. So he was still there. Still awake. Still with his built-in compass. ‘I told you, I am going to a place of power I know. A wonderful place. You will like it.’ She was visualising the white-domed silhouette of Sizewell nuclear power station.
You are deceiving me! Turn round!
‘I am not deceiving you. I told you, we are going somewhere just right for your purposes.’
You do not know what my purposes are, madam! Turn round!
‘I can’t.’ She gripped the steering wheel even more tightly. ‘I have to go on. It’s the perfect place. You’ll see.’
Stop now!
‘I told you, I can’t. I have to go on.’ She pushed her foot to the floor. ‘It’s important we get there before sunrise.’
Ahead a thin strip of cloud had begun to lighten, tinged with palest red. Above them, the sky was still dark, studded with stars. The road sparkled with dusted frost. Gritting her teeth she pushed the car on down the straight narrow road, heading inexorably towards the sea.
I told you to stop!
‘Not yet. Not till we get there. It’s not far.’
I do not trust you. Shelley women are dissemblers. They tease. They lie!
‘Not me.’
The needle on the speedometer was moving steadily to the right.
‘You must trust me. I know what I’m doing. Wait, it’s not far now.’ Mary had a little lamb.
Stop. I insist. You plan to destroy the bottle. I will not allow it!
‘I am taking you to a place of power. It is called a power station.’ She was gabbling frantically. ‘You must believe me. It is the right place to go. There the power of the bottle will be magnified. It will be ten times greater. More even than you dream of.’
Stop now. Turn round.
‘I can’t. This is a narrow road. I’m not allowed to turn. We’re nearly there.’
Anna. Please obey me. Do not make me angry.
And suddenly she felt the touch of his fingers on her neck. Ice cold. Strong.
She leaned forward, hanging on to the wheel. ‘Don’t touch me! Keep your hands off me. If we crash the bottle will be broken.’
The bottle is wrapped. It will not break. Come, Anna. Slow down, my dear.
Suddenly the fingers were caressing. Not cold this time, but warm, enticing. The hands she had felt in her dream.
‘We need to be there by sunrise.’ She gripped the steering wheel ever more tightly, forcing herself to concentrate on the road. It was growing lighter by the minute.
Don’t think about what she was going to do. Don’t let him read her thoughts. Keep that bland, deadly silhouette there in her head. And recite. That was what Serena had said to do. Recite. Block him out. Mary had a little lamb. Its fleece was white as snow. And everywhere that Mary went the lamb was sure to go …
17
Serena and Toby had wandered through into the sitting room while their hostess, abandoning the idea of going back to bed, went upstairs to get dressed. Toby stood looking down at the cold hearth. ‘Shall I light a fire?’
Serena nodded. ‘Why not?’
He picked up the poker from the carpet where Phyllis had let it fall hours before. Examining it he grimaced. ‘I can’t believe I survived being hit by this.’
Serena smiled wearily. ‘The Carstairs family obviously have tough heads. And the Shelleys are pretty feisty. Try not to worry. She’ll be OK.’
‘If I just thought she could contact us. Ring me. Anything.’ The phone in Anna’s flat just now had rung on endlessly.
‘She’s not going to ring you, Toby.’ Serena watched as he picked some logs out of the basket. ‘If she calls anyone it will be Phyllis. Or perhaps me.’ She felt automatically in her pocket for her mobile and frowned. ‘Of course. I left it on charge in the car. Perhaps I’d better fetch it.’
Toby felt the draught of cold air as she pulled open the front door. He stooped, crumpling up a newspaper he had found lying on the chair, piling the logs carefully over it with handfuls of kindling, building them into a pyramid.
In the distance he heard Serena’s car door bang. There was a box of matches on the huge black beam which served as a mantelpiece. He picked it up and shook it. Reaching for a match he was striking it as he heard Serena come back in, closing the door behind her.
The paper caught. Then the dry twigs, crackling up with a satisfying roar. He sat back, staring down at the fire, feeling the sudden warmth on his face. Then he looked up puzzled. Serena had not reappeared. Instead he heard the creak of floorboards above his head. She had gone upstairs.
Serena tapped lightly on Phyllis’s door and went in. ‘She’s called in. Listen.’ She dialled up Anna’s message and held it to the old lady’s ear.
‘Oh God!’ Phyllis stared at her. ‘We were right. He went with her. What do we do?’
‘Shall I tell Toby?’ Serena bit her lip. ‘He’s out of his mind with worry, but he is so vulnerable to Carstairs. Oh, Phyllis, I don’t know what to do for the best.’
‘Ring her back. That’s what she’s asked you to do. Call her. Now. Quickly.’ She handed the phone back to Serena and watched anxiously as Serena keyed in the number.
18
The phone rang as Anna turned the car into the high street and threaded her way towards the sea. She grabbed it. ‘Serena? Is that you? I’m here. In Aldeburgh –’ The phone hissed and crackled and went dead. She stared at it in disbelief, then she threw it down. She could see the sea wall ahead of her. She was driving slowly now, manoeuvring as close as she could to the beach.
Carefully she drew the car to a halt.
‘We’re here. The place of power.’ From the beach he would be able to see the power station in the distance. Surely he would realise that it was different; something strange he would never have seen before; would sense its sinister aura. Just so long as he gave her time to reach the sea.
‘We’re there. Let me show you. It’s the most amazing place.’ As she groped for the door handle she found herself smiling wryly. Maybe he was not so clever after all. And she had to keep it that way. Cajole him. Go along with him. Fool him. She was wondering how high the tide was. She would only need a few seconds to reach the sea. Not long.
Sands of Time Page 32