by Ann Troup
*
Brodie was frantic, she had tried everywhere and she couldn’t find a trace of Elaine. She stood on the edge of the knot garden, breathless to the point of puking and trying to convince herself that there was no way Elaine would have gone back into the house. Not in a million years.
She could see the old man on the terrace, lolling in his chair. It was no good, she’d have to go up there and ask him – much as the prospect freaked her out. Gathering herself together she moved forward on legs that were shaking with the effort of too much running.
‘S’cuse me,’ she said to the old man as she climbed the terrace steps. He didn’t respond, perhaps the old boy was deaf. ‘S’cuse me,’ she said it louder as she approached. There was something off about the way he was sitting, like he had collapsed and folded in on himself. With reluctant fingers she reached out and touched his blue-grey hand, which dangled like a limp rag, skimming the flagstones by a fraction of an inch. It was stone cold and inanimate, a realisation that made her jump back and gasp as the possibility that he was dead penetrated her racing mind. Steeling herself she touched him again, feeling for a pulse where none remained.
‘Shit’ she said, dropping the rigid hand. ‘Shit.’ Now she would have to go into the house and get help.
Gingerly she stepped through the French windows and into the room beyond. It was the room with the entrance to the tunnel, but she didn’t have time to worry about that. Moving forward she called out ‘Hello, is anyone home?’ She received no answer so she headed deeper into the house, hoping she would stumble across the pragmatic Pavla. Instead her journey was interrupted by the sound of weeping, a low keening that emanated from a room across the hall and echoed around the stairwell like a distant siren song. Drawn towards it she discovered Ada, on her knees, a handful of tiny beads in her cupped hands.
‘My pearls,’ she cried, holding them out to Brodie as if the action would demonstrate the depth of her despair. ‘My pearls,’ she repeated in a breathless grizzle.
Brodie found herself quite repulsed by the spectacle of this once grand woman on her knees, grovelling on the floor for something that would cost a couple of quid in Argos. She pulled a face, as if Ada were emitting some noxious smell instead of raw emotion. ‘Where’s Pavla?’ she asked, vaguely hopeful that the woman on the floor would pull herself together enough to answer.
Ada was still gazing at the depleted treasure in her hands. ‘Gone, she left. She couldn’t cope with poor Alex and his temper,’ she whispered.
Great, wonderful, Brodie thought. ‘Well, if she’s not here, you’re going to have to pull yourself together lady because I think your brother’s croaked it. Best you call an ambulance.’ Her sympathy for the woman was beyond non-existence, her priority was finding Elaine.
Ada seemed stunned by the words, remaining on the floor like a supplicant, ‘It’s that girl, she brings nothing but trouble with her,’ she said finally, with a great deal of venom.
‘What girl?’ Brodie demanded.
‘That child, that devil,’ Ada spat.
‘Look lady I don’t know what you’re on about, but I need to go and find my sister.’ She turned to leave but was stopped in her tracks by Ada’s next words.
‘We should have bricked the damned thing up when we had the chance. At least the child would have stayed dead.’
Realisation dawned and Brodie, ignoring Ada completely, ran back into the library and towards the tunnel entrance. The door hadn’t been closed properly, though it looked that way at a quick glance. As she approached she could feel a draught lifting the ends of her hair as ice cold air squeezed its way through the gap. She cast around the room for something that would provide some light, but found nothing that didn’t need electricity in order to work. It was no good, she’d have to brave the dark and find her way by touch.
If what she suspected was true, Elaine would have made her way back to the marble bench where they had found her before. Swallowing down her fear and revulsion she pulled the door open and wedged it with one of Albert’s books. There was nothing like a bad horror film cliché and she wasn’t going to take the chance of justifying one by making it real.
Cautiously she made her way in, using the residual light from the room behind to help her find the steps. The light ran thin and soon disappeared, forcing her to feel her way along the wall and watch her footing just as she had done before. Her biggest fear was of spiders, or the chance of walking face first into a cobweb, which might cling to her face and choke her. That fear was soon replaced with something more as she crept forward and saw the flickering light. She heard an echoing voice booming with menace. Terrified she clung to the wall and tried to stay in shadow as she inched along towards the speaker. A few feet from the ranting man she glimpsed the axe in the dancing light and realised that it was intended for Elaine. Who, Brodie could see, lay on the marble slab trussed and tied like a specimen of game.
She had nothing, no weapon, no light, no chance. If she ran back now it would be too late, Elaine would be dead and would be coming out in a body bag for sure this time. The only tool Brodie possessed was herself, and if that’s what it took to save Elaine, then that’s what she would use. There was no way Mandy was dying twice, not here, and not now – too damned much had been sacrificed in saving her.
Doing the only thing that Brodie knew how to do best, she stepped forward into the light and shot her mouth off.
‘Fucking hell mate, you sound like some cliché psychopath from a bad movie. If you’re going to kill her, cut the bloody bullshit and get on with it will you? There’ll be a vanload of coppers down here before you’ve finished waffling! So either piss, or get off the pot.’ Her words ricocheted off the tunnel walls like gunshot.
Alex wheeled round, his face a picture of shock and surprise as he faced the hooded, black clad nemesis who had just ruined his finest moment. In a roar of anger and indignation he rushed forward, with no time to raise the axe he rammed it into her. As she dropped he stood over her sagging form, axe raised and eyes flaring, ready to make the killing blow.
From her corner on the marble bench Elaine saw the shadow of a gigantic figure move forward and raise its arms, a deadly weapon held aloft. Brodie’s voice still echoed round the walls as the creature roared and brought its weapon down upon his prey. A scream of horror, which she couldn’t emit because of the filthy rag in her mouth, hurtled through her, bouncing off every cell in her body and settling like a malevolent stone in her head. The weight of it called back the velvet blackness and it curled around her consciousness in dark ribbons, like fronds of smoke from a toxic fire. Brodie’s scream rang in her ears, feeling like a second, echoing heartbeat as it pulsed through her. She couldn’t fight the looming darkness and sank down into it, hoping that there wouldn’t be time to wake before the final blow fell.
Chapter Eighteen
Dan picked up Brodie’s message when he stopped for coffee at Taunton Deane Services; he was already one step ahead of her having received a call from Jack telling him the location of Elaine’s last financial transaction and what it was for. He had kicked himself for not guessing that she would go back to the beginning.
Jack’s call had come just as Dan and Bob were removing the last of their kit from Elaine’s house. The fact that some of that kit had pulled plaster from the walls unnecessarily, and had stripped out fixtures that didn’t strictly need replacing was neither here nor there. If Graham Ellis did get his mitts on the property, what he didn’t pay in legal fees would be more than taken up by the repairs which would be needed to make it habitable again.
If Elaine could keep the property, he and Bob would put it back bigger and better than before.
Along with the tools, Dan had picked up anything he thought Elaine would want to keep – mostly personal things, clothes and ornaments and the few photographs that were in the house. God knows what Ellis was planning but if it involved any kind of injunction it might be the last chance Elaine would have of getting into the house and
retrieving the things she valued. It felt strange to try and choose the things another person would want to keep. However he’d done his best and now all her worldly goods were rattling about in the back of his van on their way to Devon.
*
Hallow’s End looked like a film set that had been mothballed. Not a soul was about as Dan drove through the village. The absence of any signs of life gave the place an eerie feel, as if everyone had just walked away leaving their kettles boiling, their dinners on the table and their TVs blaring. Not even a dog was barking, and the trees were still – not so much as a leaf daring to flutter or fall in case it broke the spell.
Dan knew from Jack that Elaine was staying in a house near the church, so that was where he headed. Unless she had rented the rectory there was only one other option, a small squat house which sat next to the churchyard. The fact that her car was parked outside offered him the relief of knowing that he’d got the right place.
The relief was replaced with trepidation as he walked towards the door. Much as he wanted to believe Jack when he had argued that Elaine had only left because of concerns that he would find her and Brodie a burden, he was fearful that the truth was something different. He wondered if he’d pushed Elaine too quickly, taken advantage of her vulnerability and put her under pressure. If that was the case, he needed to apologise and ask her if they could start again. If Jack was right Dan needed to convince her that it was rubbish and that she and Brodie weren’t a burden, they were a purpose, his reason for being.
The door was ajar and swung wide open at his touch, revealing the house to be as empty of life as the rest of the village. Brodie’s clothes were strewn over the back of a chair and used cups sat on the table. Upstairs, the bed had been slept in and Elaine’s bag sat on the floor, though the only thing she had unpacked was the one-eyed, mouldering dog that had been her childhood companion. It sat on the bedside table, the remaining eye fixing Dan with a vacant stare. The sight of it made him feel hopeless, as if whatever he had come here to achieve would be a losing battle. It would be harsh to expect Elaine to relate to him if she couldn’t even relate to herself.
He was about to sit down on the bed and nurse his despair when the oppressive silence was broken by the shrill wailing of an emergency vehicle moving at speed through the village. Thirty seconds later it was followed by another. The bedroom window only gave a view of the churchyard, so Dan wasn’t able to see where they were headed, or know whether they were police or paramedics. All he could see was the passing flash of blue lights announcing an emergency.
***
Brodie was finding it hard to breathe. She was convinced that the axe-wielding maniac had broken her ribs. She had no idea how long she had been there, poleaxed and waiting for his blow to fall, but it had seemed like an eternity. The fact that her scream was still echoing round the walls told her that it couldn’t have been – it had been seconds at most. She tried to stand, but the pain in her chest wouldn’t let her so she was forced to lie in the dark, panting for breath. The candle had blown out and she couldn’t see a thing, but she sensed movement and it terrified her. Something was moving in the dark, grunting and huffing as it groped about. Fearful that it was the lunatic about to make his second bid she tried to push herself back and further into the tunnel, away from the fingers of candlelight that might reveal her if he re-lit the flame. The movement was too much and she saw stars as pain coursed through her like a tidal wave. She and Elaine were going to die in here and there was nothing they could do.
She heard scritching as a match was dragged across the stone. She closed her eyes before it flared, not wanting to see the coming of her own demise. It was seconds before she dared open them, compelled against her own fear to at least glimpse the grim reaper. She allowed a tiny crack of light to enter through her eyelids, then opened her eyes wide as she registered that the grinning face that loomed above of her belonged to Derry.
Tears of abject relief blossomed, bloomed and fell as she took in the scene. The man with the axe lay prone on the floor behind Derry. What looked like copious amounts of blood seeped from his head and mingled with the dirt of the floor in a congealing sticky mess. From where she lay Brodie couldn’t see Elaine, but she could hear her moving on the marble slab. ‘Untie… her,’ she gasped, the pain in her chest booming with every breath.
Derry nodded and moved out of her line of sight, so that she was left to stare at the prone body of the axe man. He didn’t appear to be moving, but she couldn’t be sure. Tears were blurring her vision. The pain was making her dizzy and the fear that at any moment he might rear up and drag them all back into the nightmare was making her crazy. From the corner of her eye she saw Elaine’s legs swing down as she slithered from the marble slab, landing in a shaking heap on the dirt floor. She crawled towards the prostrated form and barely looked at Brodie, instead taking her own undone bonds and with sobbing, shaking fear using them to tie the unconscious man’s hands behind him.
Brodie noted that she had done a lousy job, but that it would be enough to slow the fucker down if he tried to get up. Only when Elaine turned to her, reaching out for her hand did Brodie realise what he had done. Elaine’s face was an unrecognisable mess of swollen, bloody flesh. She tried to speak but was damped into silence by a strident voice bolting like a coursing hare along the tunnel.
‘Derry Tyler, so help me God if you’re down here messing about again I’ll have your ruddy arse! You know what the police said – NO BLOODY ENTRY!’ The voice resounded, flooding the passage with furious confidence.
Brodie couldn’t think of a time she had ever been more grateful to hear someone’s anger. She tried to call out, but all the breath she had couldn’t be afforded on speech.
Rosemary Tyler rounded the bend, her torch beam bouncing and playing over the walls. She spotted Derry crouching on the ground with his hands over his head. ‘There you are, you great lump. I swear you’ll be the death of me!’ she boomed, having not yet noticed what lay beyond her cowering brother. Brodie’s gasping drew her attention and she wheeled round, the light from her torch revealing the havoc that had taken place. It was a rare moment for anyone to witness Rosemary Tyler struck dumb.
*
Dan’s day was becoming more and more surreal. He had followed the sound of the sirens only to see a stream of black clothed people, some clutching what looked like sandwiches, following a vicar, Benny Hill style, across the grounds of Hallow’s Court.
The bizarre tag team appeared to be heading towards the ruined chapel, where the oscillating lights of an ambulance and a police car played across the ravaged stones making it look like the venue of some sinister rave.
He spotted Miriam amongst the crowd of funereal voyeurs. A feathered fascinator hung drunkenly from her hair, its bedraggled feathers making limp attempts to draw attention in the feeble breeze. A paper serviette dangled from the front of her dress.
‘What’s going on?’ He wondered if she was in any fit state to tell him.
She shook her head causing the fascinator to slide down even further, where it clung precariously, looking like it had just sprouted from her ear.
‘I don’t know, we were having Esther’s wake and all of a sudden there were sirens blasting past the house. The vicar went out to see and everyone followed him. Where are the girls?’ she asked, looking behind him as if he had concealed them from her sight with his large frame.
He was about to shrug when he caught sight of two paramedics emerging from the ruins of the chapel carrying a stretcher. Brodie lay on it, he recognised her from her hoodie. Behind them a police officer was helping a woman over the fallen stones. He saw that it was Elaine, though he wouldn’t have known it by her face, which was swollen beyond recognition. Only her clothes gave her away.
‘Over there’ he said, pointing his finger in the same direction in which Miriam’s astonished stare had been drawn.
Another ambulance roared and screamed its way into the clearing, suggesting that there were more injure
d people on the scene and only adding to the confusion of what was going on.
Dan ran forward in a bid to reach Elaine and Brodie but was held back by a burly, strident copper who barred his way in no uncertain terms, ‘Stand back sir, no one is to go past this point.’
Dan tried to argue, to push past whilst willing Elaine to look over and call him. The uniformed protector cut him dead and shoved him back, bawling at the rest of the observers to move back and let the professionals do their jobs.
Forced to just stand by and watch the scene unfold, Dan waited with the twittering throng until the second team emerged from the ruins carrying another stretcher. No one could see who lay on it; the brace around the person’s head obscured their view.
Next to emerge were Derry and Rosemary Tyler. Derry had been handcuffed and Rosemary was shouting obscenities at the two officers who were guiding him over the uneven terrain. She was waving a torch in one hand and held a mobile phone in the other. More police cars arrived, scattering the gathering crowd and adding to the speculation.
Then the most bizarre thing of all happened. Ada Gardiner-Hallow strolled out of the trees carrying a shotgun nestled against her shoulder. She stalked towards the group, which parted before her as if she were Moses on the banks of the Red Sea.