The Doll

by Elizabeth Andrews

  ‘What the...!’ he exclaimed then turned and ran out into the hall. He flung open the front door and bounded out onto the driveway gazing in stupefied disbelief at the church.

  Hundreds of huge black crows were circling the tower; the whirling spiral of birds dipped and soared as they flew, the sound of their beating wings and harsh calls filling the air.

  A feeling of dread filled him and he began sprinting towards the church door. Behind him he heard Victoria shout but he didn’t pause, just pointed towards the tower and gestured over his shoulder to ring Queenie.

  The heavy oak door was ajar, his set of keys hanging from the lock.

  ‘Patricia,’ he groaned to himself and pushed the door wider.

  Inside it was dark and freezing cold, no figure lurked in the shadows so he cautiously stepped over the threshold. Even over the sound of his footsteps he heard the noise of splintering wood coming from the vestry. The door was open, inside the small room looked empty and there was no sign of Patricia. Paul nervously peeked behind the door then scanned the rest of the area. The cupboard door, splintered and broken hung from one hinge and the shelf where the doll had lain was empty.

  It had gone.

  His shoulders slumped as he realised the gravity of the situation and he gazed down at the discarded towel from the shelf.

  ‘Damn it,’ he groaned then turned quickly as the vestry door creaked behind him. ‘Patricia,’ he said and quickly moved towards her as he noticed the doll clutched in her hand. ‘Give it to me,’ he pleaded, holding out his hand. ‘You can’t take it out of the church.’

  ‘I must,’ she gasped, a strange look in her eyes. ‘She promised me...’

  ‘What?’ he asked. ‘What did she promise you?’

  ‘Emma!’ she said wildly. ‘She promised Emma would return if I did what she said.’

  He moved slowly forward and held out his hands. ‘She lied to you, Patricia. Emma is dead, nothing can bring her back. You know that,’ he reasoned gently.

  An angry flush rose on Patricia’s face and she drew the doll closer to her chest. ‘You don’t understand,’ she raged. ‘I saw her. She’s trapped and suffering and I am the only one who can save her.’ She stepped backwards feeling for the door.

  ‘Emma isn’t trapped anywhere Patricia,’ he said desperately. ‘That creature is lying to you. Your daughter’s soul has passed on and she is safe and at peace, believe me!’

  ‘But my little girl was pleading with me to help her!’ she wailed. ‘I saw her so plainly in the mirror; the flames were consuming her, I could smell her burning flesh! This is the only way Paul, I’m sorry,’ she said and backed out the vestry door.

  ‘No!’ he shouted and jumped forward reaching for Patricia and the doll. The tips of his fingers momentarily brushed its hard body before he was thrust away.

  ‘Don’t,’ she shouted and staggered back against the end of a pew, she slid to her knees cradling the doll in her arms and began to cry.

  ‘Patricia, please let me have it,’ he asked gently, holding out a hand. ‘This evil woman is just using you; she doesn’t care about you or your daughter.’

  Patricia sat back on her heels; arms wrapped tightly around the doll and stared dumbly at the Vicar. Tears trickled down her ashen face. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she whimpered.

  ‘It’s okay, just give me the doll,’ a note of urgency crept into his voice. The noise outside had increased and out of the corner of his eye he could see through the stained glass windows the hundreds of birds wheeling closer to the building. ‘Please,’ he said, ‘before it’s too late.’ He knelt in front of her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

  ‘It’s already too late Paul,’ she said weakly.

  ‘No, I won’t believe that,’ he said firmly and took the doll from her limp and unresisting fingers. He stared down in disgust at the wooden figure. Its blank eyes gazed back at him and a sudden wave of nausea made him retch and nearly drop it. He fumbled quickly in his pocket for the crucifix and wound the chain around its body. ‘I’ll put it back,’ he said, glancing at Patricia’s white face, ‘then I’ll take you home.’

  She nodded weakly and dragged herself onto the pew.

  ‘Wait here,’ he ordered and hurried back into the vestry. The doll was wrapped once again in the towel and thrown unceremoniously back onto the shelf; he was just struggling to close the cupboard door when he heard Patricia behind him.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said and raised one of the alter candlesticks high over her head.

  He staggered sideways, blood trickling from the gash on his forehead. Dazed and unable to stop her Paul watched helplessly as Patricia scooped up the doll and stumble out of the room.

  ‘No,’ he managed to croak before the darkness engulfed him and he collapsed unconscious to the floor.

  ‘What happened?’

  The voice made the two women start and Victoria spun around; she had been holding a cloth to her husband’s head who was propped up against the end of a pew.

  ‘He’s bleeding,’ she replied, relieved to see Queenie, Sybil and Archie hurrying into the church.

  ‘She’s got it,’ Paul said groggily and tried to stand. His legs folded and he slumped back against the hard wood. ‘The doll, Patricia took it.’

  ‘I know,’ said Queenie, trying to sound calm. ‘Where is she now?’

  ‘Gone,’ he groaned and gingerly felt his head. ‘She hit me!’

  ‘So I see,’ she said grimly then bent and picked something up off the floor. ‘This is yours, I believe,’ she said, holding out the crucifix to Paul.

  He took the cross and looked down at it, cradling it in his hand.

  ‘I wrapped this around the doll; she must have taken it off.’

  ‘There were blackbirds, everywhere,’ Gladys said, speaking for the first time. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Crows,’ said Sybil, closely following her sister. ‘They were crows, the symbol of bad luck and death.’

  ‘What?’ said Gladys, looking confused. ‘Death, whose death?’

  ‘Never mind dear, it’s just old wives tales,’ Sybil replied quickly and turned her attention to Paul.

  She knelt next to him on the cold flagstones and gently lifted the blood stained cloth. ‘It’s not too bad,’ she reassured Victoria, ‘but it will need a few stitches.’

  ‘No,’ he protested and pushed her hand away. ‘I’m not going to A&E. I need to find Patricia and that bloody doll.’

  ‘You’re in no state to do anything,’ said Archie, who was peering over Queenie’s shoulder. ‘You look awful!’ He helped Paul to his feet. ‘Let’s get you back to the Vicarage,’ he suggested, ‘and clean that cut.’

  With Archie and Victoria on either side of him Paul managed to walk slowly along the aisle towards the door.

  ‘My keys?’ he asked as they passed through the door. ‘Where are they?’

  ‘Is that how she got into the church?’ Archie asked.

  Paul nodded. ‘I didn’t notice they were missing.’ He staggered forward and stepped out into the sunlight. ‘She was raving,’ he said, blinking in the bright light. ‘She was talking about Emma, how she needed to save her.’

  ‘So,’ said Queenie. ‘That’s what she has been doing all this time, working on Patricia. How clever!’

  ‘Why would Patricia do this to Paul?’ asked Gladys anxiously. ‘I have known her for years and she is a good, kind woman!’

  ‘I’m sure she is usually but at the moment she is in a very vulnerable state after the death of her daughter, and will be very susceptible to outside influences especially malign ones,’ explained Sybil, hurrying after Paul.

  ‘Well, I don’t know about that but I realise she hasn’t been the same since Emma killed herself,’ Gladys said, looking increasingly worried.

  Abigail and Lily were waiting on the doorstep, their faces pale and streaked with tears.

  ‘Dad, dad!’ Abigail cried out, leaping off the doorstep. She sped towards him and threw her arms around his waist.r />
  ‘It’s alright,’ he said. ‘It looks worse than it is.’

  ‘But she has taken Eva!’

  ‘Who?’ asked Victoria.

  ‘Patricia. She came back after you had gone to the church. We tried to stop her, mum,’ Abigail cried.

  ‘Oh my God!’ breathed Queenie.

  ‘But why would she take my little girl?’ asked Victoria, looking bewildered.

  ‘And she’s taken dad’s car as well,’ pointed out Lily. ‘And what were all those birds doing on the church?’ she continued. ‘And where has Patricia gone?’

  Paul swivelled round nearly losing his balance and stared at the empty space where his vehicle had been parked. ‘She‘s taken my car!’ he said in amazement. ‘That means they could be miles away by now! What are we going to do?’

  ‘We need to get after them now!’ stated Queenie and turned to Victoria. ‘Go and call the Police, report the car stolen and tell them Eva was in the car at the time. That will get their attention.’

  ‘But...’

  ‘No buts, Victoria! You get on with that and we will follow Patricia.’

  ‘No!’ she protested. ‘I’m coming!’

  ‘You will do as you’re told,’ said Queenie. ‘We’ll deal with this.’ She turned to the children who were waiting with open mouths. ‘Abigail, Lily, you are going to take my sister into the front room and watch some television until we get back.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Lily suspiciously. ‘Why has she taken Eva and dad’s car?’

  ‘Lily, stop asking questions,’ Victoria said quickly. ‘Everything is fine.’

  ‘Just do as your mother says,’ Paul said wearily. ‘Please girls!’

  ‘But what about your head, dad? It’s bleeding.’

  ‘Girls! Sybil is going to stay here and look after you and your mother,’ Queenie interrupted quickly. She raised an enquiring eyebrow at her sister who nodded.

  ‘What a wonderful idea,’ Sybil said calmly, laying an arm around each of their shoulders. ‘I am very fond of Peppa Pig. I watch that with my own grand children.’

  Abigail and Lily refused to move, they stared obstinately at their parents.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Abigail demanded. ‘Fine, fine,’ she added, ‘that’s all you keeping saying!’

  ‘I told you, Patricia is unwell and she has wandered off somewhere with Eva so we need to find her,’ put in Victoria quickly. ‘So please just stay with Sybil while I call the Police and don’t worry, everything is okay,’ she reassured the girls.

  They stared first at their mother then their father who was leaning weakly against the wall.

  ‘Dad?’

  ‘It’s okay girls, really,’ he said, straightening up.

  Giving their parents once last troubled look they trailed reluctantly down the hall with Sybil in tow into the living room.

  Sybil paused in the doorway and looked at her sister. ‘Be careful.’

  ‘Of course,’ she replied briskly.

  ‘Where though?’ muttered Archie, as soon as the girls were out of earshot. ‘Where do we look?’

  ‘She is taking the doll and Eva to the stones,’ said Queenie. ‘That is where the original curse was cast so that is where the witches will be, waiting for Patricia and the poppet.’

  ‘I can understand her taking the poppet but why take Eva? ’ asked Victoria.

  ‘She’s not in her right mind, Vic,’ Paul said hurriedly. ‘Eva will be fine with her, I’m sure, she won’t want to hurt her,’ his voice trailed off and he looked desperately at Queenie.

  ‘Once they have regained the poppet they will attempt to release themselves. Most of their power is still bound up in that thing.’

  ‘But the witch is already so powerful, what will happen once they are all free?’ asked Victoria appalled. ‘They will be unstoppable.’

  ‘And that’s why we need to go now,’ stated Queenie. ‘To get Eva and stop the ritual.’ She moved towards the doorway closely followed by Paul

  A hand grasped his arm. ‘Paul, I think you should stay here,’ Archie suggested, looking him over critically. ‘You are in no fit state to help.’

  ‘I’m coming,’ he said firmly.

  ‘I don’t think that would be a good idea.’

  Paul shrugged off his hand. ‘I don’t care what you think! Eva is my daughter and I am coming with you, Queenie needs my help.’ He looked at the old woman for confirmation. ‘Don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid I have to agree,’ she nodded. ‘Paul needs to come. And we need to go now!’ She held out her hand. ‘Victoria, your car keys please.’

  She hesitated then said slowly, ‘I would rather you stayed here Paul. But I don’t suppose you will take any notice but at least let me come.’

  Queenie forestalled Paul and shook her head. ‘No,’ she said decidedly. ‘The children will need you. Sybil will be here just in case, but now we do need to get going.’

  Victoria reluctantly took the keys from the bowl on the hall stand and handed them over, watching anxiously as Paul was helped into the back seat by Queenie while Archie settled into the driving seat.

  ‘You will be careful, won’t you?’ she called.

  ‘Of course,’ said Queenie and climbed into the front passenger seat. ‘I was going to drive,’ she protested.

  ‘Oh do be quiet, Queenie,’ he said and turned the ignition.

  The traffic had increased since their last journey along the A35 and Queenie leant forward, staring intently through the steamy windscreen trying to spot Paul’s Land Rover. The drifts of snow were still present on either side of the road but had greatly reduced in size under the warm sun; the slush thrown up by the passing traffic was quickly covering the piles in a muddy brown layer.

  ‘I can’t see her,’ she said. ‘Can’t you go faster, Archie?’

  ‘No, he replied calmly. ‘I can only drive as fast as the road conditions will allow.’

  Queenie sat back in exasperation. ‘I knew I should have driven!’ she snapped.

  ‘Then we would have ended up in a ditch,’ he said. ‘She can’t be that far in front of us.’

  ‘Let’s hope not,’ Paul muttered as he searched in the back of the car for the first aid kit. He stifled a yelp as he gingerly applied a sticking plaster to the gash on his head then wiped the blood from his hands on a tissue.

  ‘Are you okay Paul?’ Queenie asked in concern.

  ‘I’m fine,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry about me. I am just annoyed with myself that I allowed her to get the drop on me,’ he grinned mirthlessly. ‘Who would have thought that Patricia had it in her?’

  ‘Don’t be too hard on her. You must remember that Patricia is not responsible for her actions at the moment,’ Queenie pointed out. ‘She is under that woman’s influence.’

  ‘I guess so,’ he agreed soberly. ‘Although it’s not making me feel any more charitable towards her.’

  The five miles to Winterbourne Abbas felt like the longest Queenie had ever travelled, a knot of fear grew in her stomach as the minutes ticked by. She stared silently ahead as the car steadily followed the queue of traffic towards the village.

  ‘There!’ said Paul, suddenly sitting forward.

  It was his Land Rover; it had skidded off the road and was laying bonnet first in an ice filled ditch at the side of the road. They slowed as they drove past and peered across; the vehicle was empty.

  ‘She’s not there,’ exclaimed Queenie. ‘Drive on Archie, they can’t have got far.’

  He nodded and drew swiftly away from the abandoned vehicle and followed the traffic into the middle of the village. Queenie peering ahead could see brake lights flickering in front as the cars slowed to pull around the two figures at the side of the road. Patricia was staggering along the snow covered verge, clutching the doll to her chest and dragging a reluctant Eva behind her. She was heading towards the iron railings that surrounded the standing stones. They reached the gate and Patricia pushed it open then pulled the little girl into the small clearing
beneath the beech trees.

  ‘She’s there already, hurry!’ Queenie exclaimed, banging her hand on the dashboard in frustration.

  Archie carefully pulled out of the line of traffic and guided the car onto the verge; before it had even stopped Queenie was unbuckled, out of the door and hurrying through the gate.

  ‘Wait!’ he called after her and quickly clambered out of his seat to follow.

  Paul was already out of the car and following her into the small copse, struggling through the thick layer of ice and mud on the path leading to the stones. When he caught up with her, Queenie had paused and was staring at Patricia who had stopped in the centre of the clearing. Eva, held fast by Patricia, stared in relief as her father half ran towards her.

  The nine stones, large and small, surrounded them and the woman scowled as they drew nearer.

  ‘Stop!’ she shouted, tightening her grip on the child as she struggled to pull away.

  ‘Daddy,’ she wailed. Her thin body was shivering violently in her thin T shirt and jeans, the pink sequined slippers on her feet were wet and covered in thick mud.

  ‘It’s alright Eva, don’t worry. I’m here,’ he called, trying to keep his voice calm. ‘Patricia,’ he continued. ‘Let my daughter go; she’s freezing and you’re frightening her. Please don’t do this.’

  ‘Go away,’ she shouted. ‘You don’t understand.’

  ‘Yes we do,’ Queenie replied. ‘You miss your daughter but you can’t get her back like this. That woman is lying to you if she says that Emma can return; she can’t!’