Deep Water

by Lu Hersey

  “That’s not your fault.”

  “I guess not, but it’s about my family.” He hesitates a moment. “Okay. So this is what my mother told me. We were known in Ancrows for making curses and binding spells, using little figures we formed from wax or clay for the purpose, called poppets. People would buy them from us.”

  “That’s what my grandmother said too.” My skin comes up in goosebumps at the thought. “Why would anyone want to buy stuff like that?”

  “All kinds of reasons. If they wanted to make sure their husband or wife stayed faithful, they’d ask for a binding spell. Or if they wanted revenge on someone, they’d want a curse – that kind of thing. Poppets are made for a particular reason…” He catches my expression. “Look, it’s probably all just superstition, don’t worry.”

  I think about the wind charm Robert gave me. “I’m not so sure, Elliot. I reckon that sort of thing can actually work.”

  “Well don’t worry. I’ve no intention of trying it. I’m not like that.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  I hope he means it. He seems to know a lot about it, and both Mamwyn and Robert have told me the ability to make curses runs in his family.

  I realize he’s looking at me oddly.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, feeling a bit self-conscious.

  “My family aren’t the only ones with a reputation, Danni. Your family’s got one too. That’s what I wanted to say. It’s what Aunty Bea’s been creating all this fuss about.”

  “You mean about us being sea people?”

  “You know?” He looks relieved. “I was worried it would be really hard to explain to you if you didn’t. Honestly, whenever Aunty Bea says ‘sea people’, she looks like she’s swallowed a wasp.”

  I smile. “Hey, don’t worry about it. We sea people may be different…” I pause while I think how to avoid saying too much. “But compared to your lot, we’re definitely harmless.”

  Elliot smiles and reaches out to stroke my hair gently with his fingers.

  “The things she’s said about you are plain crazy! I honestly don’t see how anyone could believe it. Anyway, it doesn’t matter what our families think, does it? I still don’t really understand why there’s so much bad feeling between them.”

  “When I was at my grandmother’s, she gave me the impression that it all goes back to when Crawford came to Ancrows. Apparently everything changed back then. Mamwyn didn’t say that much about it, but I found out that the boy who was killed in the exorcism was Robert’s brother. That’s why Robert’s like he is now. The grief sent him a bit mad.”

  “Yes, I heard that too. You can imagine. The poor man.”

  “Mamwyn also said Mum used to go out with Robert before it happened. I think she even had to testify at Crawford’s trial.”

  Elliot freezes for a moment and stares at me.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “She testified at his trial? Do you realize what that means?”

  I’m starting to feel anxious. “No, what does it mean?”

  “If she had to testify, it’s possible she witnessed what happened.”

  I’m horrified. Surely that can’t be true? “You think she was there? She can’t have been! Where did it happen?”

  Elliot looks at me carefully. “In the chapel at Ancrows. I thought you realized that.”

  The room feels colder suddenly.

  “But I read Mum’s diary, Elliot – she wasn’t even allowed in the chapel.” I hesitate, wondering if I’ve said too much.

  “So how come she testified at the trial?”

  “I’ve no idea. How can I find out? Do you think my grandmother would tell me?”

  Elliot stands up and goes over to his desk. He flicks his computer into life.

  “Let’s see what there is about it online. After all, the exorcism must have been big news back then.”

  He brings another chair over to his desk for me and types Crawford and Ancrows into the search engine.

  chapter 24

  There’s a lot about Crawford on the internet. A list of links pops up straight away, with headings like Cult Minister is Child Killer and Exorcist Cult Leader Found Guilty of Manslaughter. Elliot clicks on the Wikipedia link and we skim through the details of the trial in silence for a minute. The last paragraph confirms my fears.

  A key witness at the trial was a 16-year-old girl seized by Crawford’s followers along with Billy Tregorra. She told the court how Crawford shook 8-year-old Billy for at least 20 minutes until he fell unconscious. She was unable to help the boy because she was held down by members of the congregation, who apparently believed Crawford was saving the boy’s soul. Billy died before the ambulance arrived.

  “Oh, Danni, your poor mother. That’s the most shocking thing I’ve ever read.” Elliot puts his arm round me to try to comfort me. But the image of Mum held down by force and witnessing the murder of a boy she probably knew well is too much. I burst into tears. Elliot holds me tighter.

  “No wonder your mother didn’t want you to know where she came from,” he says gently.

  “Have you got a tissue?” I ask. My nose is running. I hate to think what I look like, and try to hide my face behind my sleeve.

  “Of course, I’ll just find you one. There’s a box here somewhere.” Elliot jumps up to look round the room.

  While he’s searching, I skim a few other links to Crawford, then go back to the original page again. The grainy photograph of him looks strangely familiar.

  I feel the blood drain from my face. I didn’t think things could get any worse, but they just have.

  “Danni? Are you okay? Here, have these.” Elliot hands me the tissues. “You’re so pale. Do you want a glass of water?”

  “Elliot, it’s him!”

  “Who?”

  “Crawford.”

  Elliot doesn’t understand. “Have you seen this picture before or something?”

  “No. But I’ve seen him. Crawford.”

  “Surely not! Isn’t he locked up somewhere?”

  “No, it was only manslaughter. See this headline here?” I point to one that says Chosen Minister Gets 10 Years. “He must have been out for ages. He looks much older now – but I’m positive it’s the same man. He lives in Porthenys.”

  “Porthenys? He can’t! That’s really close. Why would he even think about coming back to this area after what happened?”

  I sit down, covering my face with my hands.

  “I’ve no idea. But he’s the man who found Mum on the beach.”

  Elliot looks stunned.

  “Are you sure? How do you know?”

  “Levi and I ran into him. It was after the first time we went to see Mum in hospital. I wanted to know what she was doing in Porthenys that day – so we went to the beach to look for clues. We ran into Crawford with his horrible dog.”

  “You mean you actually spoke to him?”

  “Yes, I had to get Jackson away from his Rottweiler. He was really weird with me, just like your Aunty Bea. Now I know why. He recognized me, the same way she did. Because I look like Mum.”

  “You probably scared him. Your mum wouldn’t have been much older than you when it happened. Maybe seeing you reminded him?”

  “Perhaps. Mostly I just got the feeling he hated me – which is probably exactly how he felt about Mum if she testified against him in court. Anyway there’s something else you should know – Crawford’s a friend of your Aunty Bea.”

  “No way!” Elliot looks so shocked, I realize I should probably have been a bit more sensitive about telling him.

  “Afraid so – sorry, I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that.”

  “That’s okay – but I can’t quite get my head round the idea. How do you know?”

  “I saw Crawford again in Bodmin when I went with Dad to the supermarket earlier today. He was sitting in a cafe with her. The way they were talking, it looked like they knew each other well. In fact I was going to ask you about it – I thoug
ht you might know who he was.”

  Elliot shakes his head. “We didn’t think Aunty Bea had any friends. That’s why Dad won’t tell her to get lost – he feels sorry for her. So why does she have to be friends with him, of all people?”

  My mind is reeling. Mum’s diary flashes into my mind.

  I think Beryl’s in love with the minister…

  Of course. The minister must have been Crawford.

  “Elliot, think about it. She knew him before. She went to the chapel. I just saw a link online that said half his congregation thought Crawford shouldn’t have gone to prison at all. They thought he was a good man, and killing Billy was a terrible accident. Your Aunty Bea must have thought so too.”

  Elliot looks deep in thought.

  “No wonder your grandmother and Robert warned you to stay away from my family,” he says eventually. “They have every reason to hate us.”

  “But none of this is your fault,” I say, reaching up and gently touching his face.

  He puts his arms around me and we hold each other close for a few moments, not saying anything. I think we’re both exhausted. I rest my head on his shoulder.

  “I should go back home,” I say in his ear.

  “I’ll walk with you.”

  “Thanks.”

  When we pull apart, I notice a couple of pale blonde hairs on his jumper. Mine. I feel a bit wary still. He seemed to know a lot about making curses. I pluck them off carefully, feeling slightly guilty that I don’t tell him why.

  We hold hands as he walks me back to the shop. Standing outside the back door, Elliot pulls me into his arms again. I close my eyes. I feel his lips brush mine, then we kiss, his mouth soft and warm and gentle. I feel like I’ve just melted. When I open my eyes, I notice how brightly the stars are shining over his shoulder. We hold each other for a moment, breathing in the crisp, clear night air.

  “Do you want to see me again?” he asks.

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Let me see now – maybe because I have a seriously dodgy background? Oh, and an aunt who hangs out with a known killer.”

  I laugh. “Of course I want to see you.”

  “I’ll call you.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “And next time let me know you’re coming round and I’ll pick you up. There’s no way I’m letting you run into Aunty Bea again by yourself – not if I can help it.”

  The light above the back door comes on and I hear Dad coming down the stairs. We kiss again briefly and Elliot says goodbye.

  Lying in bed later, I can’t sleep. I’m haunted by the thought of Mum in the chapel. I go over everything Elliot and I talked about. Something nags at me. Suddenly it hits me and I sit bolt upright in bed.

  Mum wasn’t allowed in the chapel. She said so in her diary. Which means Crawford must have dragged her in, along with Billy, for a reason. So what was it?

  Elliot said Billy’s family were just wind sellers. But Crawford saw any of the so-called “old ways” as evil. He must have heard the stories about sea people around the village too – Elliot’s Aunty Bea would have made sure of that. She hated Mum. Which means it’s more than possible Crawford forced Mum into the chapel because he intended to do one of his exorcisms on her – but Billy’s death put a stop to everything.

  Mum couldn’t have been more unlucky that it was Crawford who found her on Porthenys beach. I bet she was unconscious. There’s no way she’d have let him near her otherwise.

  I remember how shifty he looked when I asked him if Mum had anything with her when he found her. I was sure he was lying. Mum’s sealskin could have been close by her on the beach. If he saw it, I’m positive he’d have taken it.

  I reckon Crawford has got her sealskin.

  I groan out loud in the dark. If I’m right, how on earth are Mamwyn and I going to get it back?

  chapter 25

  I look at my phone. It’s only 5 a.m. I’ve hardly slept. Everything keeps turning over and over in my mind, and I’m unable to come up with a solution. I have to see Mamwyn, but can’t think how I’m going to persuade Dad to let me go over to her place until I’ve done some schoolwork. I can’t tell him why it’s so important I see her. I can’t tell anyone.

  I’m so restless, I decide I may as well get out of bed. Up at the bedroom window, I peer out onto the street. It’s still pitch dark outside. My heart starts beating faster as an idea forms in my head. I could get to Mamwyn’s and back before Dad’s even awake if I set out now.

  I quickly pull on my jeans and a sweater, not bothering to wash or clean my teeth in case the noise wakes Dad. Jackson looks at me hopefully from his basket on the landing as I put my jacket on, but I whisper at him to stay. The last thing I need is a dog barking his head off when I get the bike out. Jackson loves chasing bikes. It’s one of his most annoying habits.

  It’s so dark outside, I almost have second thoughts. The sun won’t be up for a couple of hours. I fix the lights onto Michelle’s bike as quietly as I can before closing the back door, then push the bike along the path and round to the front of the shop before I dare switch them on. Thank goodness it’s a calm, clear night and the stars are still out. Even so, it’s scary out alone in the dark.

  By the time I’ve pedalled up to the cliff road, I can feel the dawn is getting closer. A blackbird sounds its alarm call in a hawthorn tree next to me, and as I cycle along towards Mamwyn’s, the sky gradually turns from black to dark grey.

  When I reach Ancrows, I avoid the lane where I nearly ran into Aunty Bea last time. Instead I cycle down the other road, past the old cottages and the lane where Mum’s car is parked, down to the harbour. The silence of the village is suddenly broken by a few gulls, screaming at each other to greet the start of the day.

  I get off the bike by the cafe at the bottom, relieved there’s no one else about. The last thing I need is any gossip getting back to Dad when I’m not supposed to be here.

  Mamwyn is waiting for me in her doorway as I push the bike round the corner to her house.

  “I knew you were coming,” she says, giving me a quick hug. “I dreamed about you. Come inside and get warm. I’ll put the kettle on.” She pulls her woollen shawl closer to her body to fend off the chilly morning air and goes inside. I chain the bike to the fence and follow her, closing the door behind me.

  I stand in front of the fireplace warming my freezing hands. The fire’s already blazing, so I reckon Mamwyn must have been up a while. She comes out of the kitchen carrying two mugs of tea and hands one to me.

  “I’m guessing the news you bring isn’t good?”

  “No, it’s not. It’s about Crawford.”

  She stares at me, her dark eyes reflecting the light from the fire. She doesn’t say anything for a minute, but picks up a poker and pushes a log further in. Sparks fly up the chimney.

  “I knew something was up. That’s why I was awake so early. All the signs pointed to it. What about him?”

  “He’s back in the area, and—”

  “Back in the area? How do you know?” She asks the questions quick as a flash, before I’ve had time to explain.

  I take a deep breath. “I went round to Elliot’s. We were talking about Ancrows in the old days and looking stuff up online. Crawford’s picture came up.” My voice starts shaking. “Mamwyn, I’ve seen him before. On Porthenys beach, where Mum was found.”

  She turns to me, her eyes filled with dismay.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. Crawford is the one who found her. I think he lives there.”

  Mamwyn seems older suddenly, almost as though she’s shrunk into herself. She looks desolate. “Crawford at Porthenys. How can he possibly move back near here after what happened?”

  “I don’t know, but it seems he has.”

  “He can’t have been back long – it’s a small place and word travels. Oh, if only your mother hadn’t gone up onto that beach…” Mamwyn sounds as anguished as I feel.

  “At the hospital they said she had
some bruising round her temple. It’s possible she was knocked unconscious, or simply got confused and came ashore there by mistake. Mum’s not usually the type of person to take risks.”

  Mamwyn picks up more driftwood to put on the fire. “You may be right – it would certainly help to explain how she got there. But Crawford finding her is the worst kind of luck. He knows more than he should about sea people. He made it his business to find out anything he could about the old ways. He was determined to stamp us all out. If he saw a sealskin, he’d have taken it.”

  “That’s exactly what I was afraid of.”

  Her voice sinks to a whisper and she sounds like she’s close to tears. “Of all the people who could have taken it. If he destroys it, she’s as good as lost to us for ever. She won’t get better.”

  I feel like crying. Mamwyn’s confirmed all my worst fears.

  “We have to get it back off him, Mamwyn. As soon as possible.”

  She doesn’t say anything for a moment and seems deep in contemplation. Then she looks at me.

  “Porthenys is difficult to get to without a car. There’s no bus goes there, you know – too far off the beaten track.”

  “We can use the gift, Mamwyn, I’ve already worked that out. We can swim there easily, can’t we?”

  She rubs her arms, thoughtfully.

  “It’s dangerous, that coast. It’s where my Joseph drowned, you know. The currents are strong and you’re too unpractised yet.”

  “But you’ll be with me. Won’t you?”

  “You can’t go, Danni. It’s too difficult for you. I’ll go alone.”

  “No way. If we can find out where Crawford lives, we might need to break in or something. What if you ran into him on your own? He hates us and he’s dangerous. I’m coming with you and you can’t stop me.”

  We glare at each other for a moment. She looks quite fierce when she’s angry. Suddenly she smiles and her face transforms.

  “You’re so like my Mary when she was your age.”

  Right now, I’m not sure I like the comparison.

  “No I’m not. I’m nothing like her.”