by Amy Cross
“My daughter wanted to come here one more time before we leave,” I reply.
“Ah, little Kate,” Father Cole says approvingly, looking alone the aisle. “She seems to find solace here.” He turns back to Anthony. “I'm sure she won't be the last young child who comes to this church in need of help. If you're anything like me, Anthony, it's the children who will be the most rewarding part of the job once you take over.”
“Take over?” I ask.
“I should like to introduce Father Anthony Redman,” Father Cole continues. “Father Redman will be taking over this parish when I retire in six months' time. Although I'm getting the impression that you two perhaps know one another already...”
“We've met several times,” Anthony says with an awkward smile.
“I shall go and speak to the girl,” Father Cole adds. “Excuse me for one moment.”
As he walks away, I'm left standing alone with Anthony. I feel extremely awkward, but at the same time more than a little confused too.
“Did I never mention that I'm an ordained priest?” he asks after a moment. “Well, in truth I suppose I should admit that I deliberately left that part out. I suppose I worried that you might see me in a certain way. I hope you'll accept my apology for any deception.”
“No, it's fine,” I stammer, still shocked. “I just never... I mean, it didn't occur to me that...”
My voice trails off, and I'm honestly not sure what to say.
“In my world,” he replies, “it can be difficult to know how to comport oneself when one meets people from the secular world. I suppose I'm not really explaining myself very well, am I?”
“You don't have to explain yourself at all,” I reply, and then I allow myself a faint smile. “You're a priest?”
“I most certainly am. I've been in town to see my new parish ahead of my proper arrival later in the year.”
“God, how could I have missed that?” I ask, before suddenly realizing what I just said. “Sorry! I didn't mean to say God!”
“It's quite alright. I might be a priest, but I'm not one of the stricter ones.”
“Oh Jesus, I'm just -”
I wince as I realize I did it again.
“Damn,” I continue, “I -”
Sighing, I realize I should probably just stop talking.
“If you're ever in Curridge again,” Anthony says, saving me from my own muddle, “then I hope you'll drop by the church again. Little Kate seems to like it here already, and I promise I shan't try to brainwash any of you with my... How did you describe it again? Religious claptrap?”
“I'm so sorry,” I reply. “Did I really say that?”
“Think no more of it. I found it rather funny.”
“And there I was, worrying about so many things,” I say with a sigh. “I mean, priests can't even marry.”
“Well, we can,” he replies. “In this church, at least.”
“Oh.”
Falling silent, I realize that perhaps I've put my foot in it again.
“I got your note,” he says after a moment, “and I thought it was a lovely note. Very kind and tactful. I hope you didn't feel pressured in any way.”
“No,” I reply, “of course not.”
Hearing voices nearby, I turn and see that Father Cole is bringing Kate this way along the altar, and I feel a flash of regret as I realize that it's time for us to leave. For a few seconds, it actually occurs to me that I could extend our stay for a few more days, and maybe spend some more time with Anthony. I'm not entirely sure why, but knowing he's a priest somehow changes everything. Instead of worrying that he's after something, I feel as if he's someone I can trust. But then, with a heavy heart, I realize that it's still too soon to get close to another man. Turning back to Anthony, I want to hug him, but I know that I should simply say goodbye.
“Well, goodbye for now,” he says, almost as if he read my mind. “I do hope that perhaps some day we shall meet again. And maybe then...”
His voice trails off, and then he reaches out and strokes the side of Alice's face.
“Well,” he adds, “you know what I mean.”
“We should go,” I reply, taking Kate's hand and leading her out of the church before I have a chance to say any more dumb things.
“Are you alright, Mummy?” Kate asks.
“I'm fine,” I reply. “We just have to get going.”
When we reach the gate, however, I can't help looking back toward the church. For a moment, I feel as if I actually want Anthony to come after me, but of course there's no sign of him. As a man of the cloth, I'm sure he's far too busy, and for too understanding of my situation. Still, I wait a moment longer, just to give him a little extra chance, before finally I lead Kate along the road that winds through the forest and leads back down to Curridge.
And this time, I don't allow myself to look back.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Alice
Today
“Come on,” I mutter, drumming my fingers against the steering wheel as I sit in the car, waiting for some idiot ahead to let me past. “Could you be going any slower?”
The bad weather is really picking up now, and driving rain is crashing against the windshield. For the past five or six miles, I've been stuck behind a car that's barely going above twenty, and it's almost as if he's deliberately trying to block my way to Curridge. He's only driving a regular-sized hatchback, but he's meandering across to the wrong side of the road every few seconds and I daren't risk trying to pass.
Finally I beep my horn, just as another rumble of thunder fills the moonless sky above.
“Get out of the way!” I yell. “Move!”
The driver doesn't respond, however, and finally I realize that I'm going to have to take matters into my own hands. I wind down my window and peer out, to double-check that nobody seems to be coming the other way, and then I decide to take a risk. As rain continues to crash down, I swing my car out from behind the dawdler and floor the throttle, quickly overtaking him. In the process, I glance at the driver of the other vehicle and see the familiar face of Father Redman staring out at me. For a fraction of a second, I'm struck by his pale, terrified features, but I quickly focus on the task of getting to Curridge.
I quickly leave the priest far behind. Finally, in the distance, I can see the lights of the little coastal town.
***
“She's in the pub!” Graham yells over the rain, as I step out of my car. “She took a room and then she went upstairs!”
“I checked her house before I came,” I reply, hurrying toward the pub's front door. “She wasn't home. I just don't know why she came back here. She barely even mentioned Curridge again after we left.”
“You need to get her some proper help,” he continues. “If she saw what I think she saw, then she needs a professional psychiatrist. After all, whatever happened on this beach thirty years ago, it was enough to make Dora Ohme lose her faith.”
Reaching the door, I push it open and step into the pub, where I see that several locals are gathered at the bar. I look around, but there's no sign of Kate, so I guess she must have gone out.
“Where's my sister?” I ask, heading over to the bar and stopping in front of the landlord.
“Blimey,” he replies, “I should've known you'd come pottering about again.”
“Where is she?” I shout. “My sister came in here earlier, and I need to see her! Which room is she in?”
“I'm not sure I'm allowed to just -”
“Tell me!”
He hesitates, before nodding toward the door at the far end of the room.
“Up there,” he says reluctantly. “Room six.”
Rushing past him, I head through the door and then up the stairs. Room six is at the far end of the corridor, so it takes a moment longer before I get there and can start banging against the door.
“Kate, it's me!” I call out. “Kate, open the door!”
Hearing a creaking board behind me, I turn and see that Gra
ham has followed me up to the landing.
“I haven't seen her leave,” he says, “but she could have gone out the back door.”
“Kate!” I bang on the door again. “I need you to open up! I need to know what's going on with you!”
I should never have left her alone at her house earlier tonight. I thought I was being sensitive, that I was avoiding turning a drama into a crisis, but now I wish I'd forced her to leave with me.
“Kate!” I yell. “I need you to open this door!”
I wait, but there's still no reply. And then, just as I'm about to try again, I realize I can hear footsteps in one of the nearby rooms. I look around, and it takes only a few seconds before I realize that the sound is coming from the next room along.
“Is he still here?” I whisper, shocked by the thought that the elusive Mr. Goodman might have been in town this whole time.
“No-one really knows what he's doing in Curridge,” Graham tells me. “I haven't even seen him myself, but a few other people have. Apparently he just goes out on long walks every day. Some folk have been commenting on the noise, though. Whenever he's in his room, he just paces about like that. He's been doing it for months.”
I hesitate for a moment, before stepping over to the other door and listening to the footsteps. Then, finally, I knock on his door, only for the footsteps to stop immediately.
“I need you to open this door,” I say firmly. “I don't know who you are, but I need you to open this door and tell me what you're doing here. Do you understand? I'm not -”
Before I can finish, I hear a clicking sound and then the handle turns. The door bumps open just a crack, and then I push it the rest of the way until I can see into the room.
There's nobody there.
The bedside lamp is on, but otherwise the room is bare and untouched. There's no suitcase, and the bed doesn't even look to have been disturbed. Stepping inside, I look around for some sign of the mysterious stranger who just a few seconds ago was pacing back and forth across the room. He's not here, however, and finally I crouch down to look under the bed, just to be sure.
“I heard him,” Graham says, standing in the doorway. “There's no way he could have left.”
Getting to my feet, I head over to the window and check that it's locked, and then I take a look in the wardrobe.
“He doesn't seem to have a case or any clothes,” I mutter, looking back over at the bed. “It's almost as if -”
Suddenly I gasp as I realize somebody is staring straight into my eyes. I take a step back, bumping against the wardrobe, but the sensation persists for a few seconds even though I can't actually see anyone. A shiver runs through my chest, and I swear I can feel an intense stare coming from just a few inches in front of my face. After a few more seconds, however, the sensation fades.
“Are you okay?” Graham asks.
“Did you feel that?” I stammer.
“Feel what?”
Unable to shake a feeling of growing fear, I head back around the bed and then out into the hallway. For a moment I swear I hear footsteps on the stairs, but they quickly fade away.
A few seconds later, there's an ominous rumble of thunder as rain crashes harder than ever against the dark window.
“What's all the fuss up here?” the landlord asks, coming up the stairs and stopping at the far end of the landing. “I've heard yelling and banging. What are you two up to?”
“My sister isn't answering when I knock on her door,” I tell him.
“Maybe she's not in.”
“We don't think she's left,” Graham adds.
The landlord hesitates, before taking a set of keys from his pocket and heading over to Kate's door.
“Are you in there, M'am?” he asks, knocking gently. “This is Mr. Packer from downstairs. I just wanted to check that you're okay:” He hesitates, and I can see the concern in his eyes. “Okay,” he continues, “I'm going to open the door. If you're in there, please make yourself decent.”
He slips the key into the lock and opens the door, and I follow as he steps inside.
“She's not here,” he says, with a clear sigh of relief. Turning to me, he seems less than impressed. “Now, I wonder why she didn't answer the door when you knocked. Apart from not being in her bleedin' room, that is!”
“What did she see?” I whisper, before turning to Graham. “If everything you've told me is right, then what did Kate see on the night our mother died? And why has it left her so traumatized?”
“It's raining cats and dogs out there,” he replies, as another rumble of thunder causes the window to rattle in its frame. “There's pretty much nowhere else to go.”
“I have to find her,” I stammer, turning and hurrying down the stairs, taking them two at a time. “She can't look after herself! She's going to get pneumonia!”
Reaching the downstairs hallway, I hurry to the door and pull it open, only to run straight into a figure who's standing outside in the rain.
“Miss Ashcroft,” Father Redman says, with fear in his eyes, “I'm sorry, I should have given these to you sooner.”
“What do you -”
Before I can finish, he shoves several pieces of torn paper into my hands.
“Please understand,” he continues, “I only kept hold of them because I thought I was their best custodian. I didn't want any more trouble, so I kept them at the church. Over the years, I read the note so often, it fell apart. Perhaps I should have given the pieces to you sooner, but I allowed weakness into my heart. Not a day has gone past when I haven't thought about your mother. I found the photo on the beach, not long after she died, and I suppose I kept it for sentimental reasons. I think your sister must have dropped it on that awful day. And then the note...”
He looks down at the papers for a moment.
“I don't think a day has gone past,” he adds finally, “when I haven't thought of your mother. I so enjoyed spending time with her, even if she made it very clear that...”
His voice trails off for a moment.
“I've seen hints of darkness here ever since,” he continues, looking at me again. “I've felt it, in the grounds of the church as well as here in town. I've felt it on the beach, too. I've seen its symbol, a letter C and an A, carved into stone. They do have symbols, don't they? These demons, I mean. I didn't want to believe that such creatures existed, but now...”
He pauses again, before stepping back out into the pouring rain.
“Take my advice,” he adds, “and get out of here. Drive away and don't ever look back, don't even think about this town again. That's what I'm doing! It's what I should have done a long time ago!”
With that, he turns and hurries off into the rain.
“Wait!” I call after him. Stopping in the doorway, I hear a car door slam shut, and then a bright set of headlights starts moving across the beach. I watch Father Redman's car bump away, and then I look down at the papers in my hands.
“What did he want?” Graham asks.
“I don't know,” I reply, unfolding the papers and finding that they're pieces of a note that looks to have been written on old, tattered paper, “but I think maybe -”
And then I see it.
An old color photo, taken on a Polaroid camera. I recognize the little girl in the picture, thanks to other photos of Kate when she was young, and I'm pretty sure the baby must be me.
Which means the woman in the photo – beautiful and smiling, with dark hair and a happy smile – must be my mother.
Chapter Sixty
Lizzie
Thirty years ago
“Come on, Kate, let's go!” I call out, carrying Alice away from the car and stopping to watch as Kate plays at the shoreline. “We have to leave right now!”
“I'm trying to find a nice pebble!” she shouts back at me.
“You've had days and days to find a nice pebble!” I point out, before remembering that she actually found some the other day, before they were taken away from her by that old busybody.
/> Turning, I look toward the cottages. To my surprise, I see that Dora Ohme is at her window, seemingly watching our every move. I wait for her to hurry out of sight, but she simply stares at me. Finally, rolling my eyes, I set out across the beach, determined to fetch Kate and make sure that she comes to the car. I make my way past the beach huts, and this time -
Suddenly I let out a gasp as a figure steps into my path from behind one of the huts.
“I'm sorry,” I stammer, trying to step around him, only for him to move into my way again.
Shocked, I can't help but notice that he's staring at me with an intense glare. I try again to get past, but he blocks my path yet again, and this time I take a step back.
“I'm sorry,” I say, trying to sound calm, “I don't know who you are, but -”
“There has been a soul auction,” he replies, his voice sounding so deep and smooth, “and I am here to collect. I have been watching you ever since you arrived.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, worried that this guy might be some kind of weirdo.
“I own the soul now,” he continues. “I have the soulspiece that was collected from this beach by a merchant.”
“You have what?”
He reaches into an inside pocket of his dark coat, and a moment later he takes out Kate's missing toy bear, Mr. Puddles.
“Where did you find that?” I ask, reaching out to take the bear, only for him to slip it back into his pocket. “Who the hell are you and what do you want?”
“I won the soulspiece at the most recent auction,” he replies. “The soul is mine.”
“Okay,” I continue, “I don't know what you're talking about, but -”
“I do not intend to collect it right now,” he adds, interrupting me as a smile crosses his lips. “Oh no, I intend to savor this soul for many years. I intend to cultivate its misery, the way a chef marinades a fine cut of meat. By the time I am ready to consume this soul, it will be the most exquisite meal in all of history. That is why I paid such a handsome price for it at the auction. I saw not only its qualities as they exist today. I saw also its potential.”