by Syd Moore
‘But how?’ asked Monty then explained. ‘It’s not as heavy as marble but it’s still got some weight.’
‘Same as barrels,’ Ben shrugged. ‘We used the beer trolley. Was a bit hard with the height, but, well, you’ll see.’
Bobby looked down at Ben and stared. ‘So where’s the body from the coffin?’ he demanded.
Ben pointed with his free hand to the furthest wall. ‘In the Unlikely freezer.’
‘Unlikely?’ Monty asked.
‘All the stuff that don’t get used that often. Most of the food is stored upstairs with the fresh stuff in the kitchen or the store out back. This has got tripe and tongue, faggots, some eels and that. You know – old stuff. No one ever comes down to it.’ He began to weave between the towering barrels and then dodged round a wall into a passage out of sight.
Everyone made to follow, Sam and I included, but Scrub shook her head and said, ‘You two wait here.’
Then the rest of them went off to view the ‘Unlikely’ freezer, leaving Sam and me on our tod.
He was fidgeting, hopping about on one foot then the other. ‘Excited?’ he said.
I shrugged. ‘Well, it will be interesting to see what it’s like.’
‘I can hardly contain myself.’ He grinned. ‘Such a strange twist to come out of it all. An actual real secret tomb.’
‘So they say,’ I said, feeling more cautious. ‘We’ll see. Ben Christmas is known for pulling pranks. I wouldn’t be surprised if this is another one.’
‘But what’s he got to gain by that?’ Sam asked, hope lighting his eyes. I couldn’t see them properly now, but I was guessing that if I got closer to him, they’d be whirring with amber.
‘Mmm, yes you’re right,’ I said. ‘He’d lose the goodwill of the constabulary.’
‘Indeed,’ Sam agreed. ‘But it does seem plausible, don’t you think? There are other subterranean tombs around the church. It would explain how Ben and Stevie managed to get the body and effigy out of the church with no one seeing them …’
There was a loud sniff and the sound of footsteps on the flagstones and Scrub’s gang returned to barrel central.
‘You couldn’t make it up,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘He’s only gone and hid the body in his mum’s second freezer. It’s down there in all that offal, with some frozen peas and carrots.’ She shook her head. ‘I tell you one thing – I’m crossing this one off my pub grub Top Ten.’
Monty followed close behind. I couldn’t hear everything that he was saying but it sounded like he was giving brusque instructions to one of the suits. As he got closer I heard the words ‘archaeologist’, ‘museum’ and ‘Procedure Four’. Then the dark grey suit, who had been on the receiving end, nodded silently and slipped away up the passageway whence we had come.
Monty caught my eye and grimaced. ‘I doubt our good lady Christmas will be particularly happy, but we’ll have to secure the premises for a while.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Scrub. ‘She’s a proper ray of sunshine. Make sure you tell her in person. Now,’ she said and turned to Ben. ‘Let’s see this so-called tunnel. You say you found the entrance last year?’
Ben grunted an affirmation and shuffled round, causing Sam and me to stand aside and let him through. Once past, he ducked round a stack of barrels, with PC Brown in tow, then stuck his head out indicating we should follow him. ‘Took us ages to get down to the other side, but we done it.’
When we caught up with him we found, stacked against the furthest cellar wall, more crates of varying colours and brands, full of bottles in different sizes.
Ben jerked his head at them. ‘Mum always reckons she’s going to recycle but she never does. Some of them are well old. Me and Stevie were looking for some to make a bottle bomb …’ he stopped and gulped at Scrub and PC Brown and hastily broke off, ‘Not like that kind of bomb. It don’t matter. Point is, when we were going through these, we found the door. It’s behind this,’ he said and pointed to the nearest stack of crates. Monty’s remaining man, Sam and Scrub collectively moved them out of the way. As they did, the outline of a stubby wooden door emerged. You’d be forgiven for missing it, as it had been painted over several times and now almost completely melted into the wall. The only signs of its shape were the dislodged paint chips and flakes, where Ben and Stevie had hacked.
Ben pulled at the wooden knob and we saw the door lurch open. ‘It was bricked up here. But we knocked them in.’
‘Where are the bricks now?’ asked Monty, then turned to Sam. ‘Might be useful for dating.’
‘Some round there,’ he said indicating to the crates. ‘Some in here.’ He tried to point, but simply yanked PC Brown’s hand about a bit. ‘Oh, can I have these off?’ he whined and pointed to the handcuffs. Scrub nodded and Bobby Brown released him.
‘And can I use a phone?’ Ben asked. ‘For the torch? It’s all right, there’s no signal down here.’
Scrub grunted again and nodded to Officer Brown who handed Ben’s mobile over. The rest of us also decided illumination might be a good idea so got our own phones out and turned the torches on.
‘I’ll go in first,’ said Bobby and disappeared through the doorway.
‘There’s a bit of a difference in the floor level,’ Ben called.
We heard a ‘hoof’ and then a request for instructions to the light source. Ben told him to hang on then vanished through the entrance too.
A dull light came on inside. Through the tiny doorway we could see a mud-brown, interior. It appeared to be glistening.
PC Brown shouted ‘clear’ and the rest of us, intrigued, began to squeeze through the opening.
Behind the wall another cellar opened up. Its floor was about three feet lower than the one we were in so we had to jump down from the doorway. And this one was from another age. Dark and round with not much head height, none of us could stand up. The ground was made of dirt and uneven.
Nor was it as large as the one we had been in. Maybe only five feet by six, the size of a small box room. And with seven of us in there it was all very intimate.
Ben waited for us to straighten up and adjust to our surroundings then said, ‘We scooped out the mud because we could see the top of this.’ He moved some light cardboard boxes to one side to reveal an arched entry giving on to a dark, yawning passage. ‘There had always been rumours of tunnels in the pub but we had it in our heads that it was from the fireplaces. That’s where all the oldies said it was. But when we come and saw this, we knew it was the one what all the stories was about.’
Dull illumination was provided by a string of battery-operated fairy lights in the shape of butterflies, which was really at odds with the antiquity of the place. Now I recalled – that’s what Stevie had been playing with when I found him upstairs at The Griffin.
Ben caught me looking and said, ‘We couldn’t fink of how to light it. We didn’t want to run electricity in or someone might have sussed it. Anyway,’ he said and turned round to face the other direction. ‘Here’s where the tunnel begins. It was jammed just there but we got all the stone and rubble out and knocked through. Looked like someone had blocked the passageway on purpose. They didn’t want no one going in.’
‘How do you know?’ asked Monty.
‘There was writing on some of the stones and some drawings. Stars, and pentagrams, like the witches, old stuff.’
Sam gasped audibly. ‘Well I never. Where are these stones now?’
‘Oh sorry,’ said Ben. ‘We smuggled them out then took them down the tip.’
Sam’s face dropped but he didn’t say anything.
‘Sorry,’ Ben said again, ‘You know. My mum – if she found out.’
Nuff said, I thought.
Monty instructed ‘Note that,’ to light-grey-suited man.
Then Ben aimed his phone into the void and he and Bobby entered the darkness.
I had to admit that I was feeling a little claustrophobic. But at the same time curiosity was doing a good job of overpowering f
luttering fears and reservations.
Sam entered the tunnel, which was very narrow and perhaps only five feet high, requiring we all bent our heads. It sloped downwards. The floor glistened and flickered. There was damp there. You could smell it in the earthy atmosphere too.
Stapled to old wooden beams overhead, strings of twinkling fairy lights guided us down deeper into the earth. We’re going to Never-Never Land I thought.
Artificial light from mobile phones cast an irregular pale blue glow as we passed tiny stones and gems pressed into the walls. Other sections were just plain earth, more fabricated from stone slabs.
So strange, I thought as we trod on.
PC Brown shuffled up ahead and presently another light source was turned on.
I heard Monty cry, ‘Good bloody grief.’
As if underlying the drama, his words echoed.
It was extremely unusual for him to swear, but when I came out of the tunnel into the new chamber I could see exactly why he had. For we had emerged into an underground cave, possibly about fifteen feet high, and wider, much wider than the tunnel, maybe twenty-five feet across. I couldn’t really tell, the light wasn’t strong enough. The ceiling curved and fractured. Great stalactites were suspended from it. Liquid, maybe water, seeped slowly off them, creating a soundscape of tricklings and drips.
Ben and Stevie had tried to make the place safer by sticking iron poles up in various places.
‘Scaffolding,’ said Ben. ‘Nicked it from some place on the Essex Road.’
I thought Scrub might say something, but she too was completely mesmerised by this circular opening, this subterranean cave.
‘Amazing,’ said Sam. ‘Are those tombs?’ He pointed to two stone rectangles behind us.
‘Yeah,’ said Ben and shrugged. ‘They got bones in too. There’s another one over there,’ he said and pointed into the dimness, ‘and one behind the altar.’
‘Altar?’ snapped Monty and looked over.
‘There,’ said Ben and directed the beam on his phone a couple of metres to my right where I saw a larger slab of stone.
‘That’s what we call it,’ said Ben, again. ‘It looks like an altar don’t it? And it’s got symbols on. Like those on the stones we chucked.’
‘Yes it does,’ I said walking slowly towards it. ‘Sam, this is like what I saw in my dream. You know,’ I said, hearing my voice crack, ‘with the gods.’
I thought he was going to come over and stare at it with me. But he didn’t. For Ben was saying, ‘We found some clothes there. Old ones. Boots. Like army clothes. A duvet too. But they’ve gone now.’
‘Gone?’ Monty’s clipped tones pierced the thinning air. ‘You mean someone else was here?’
Ben shrugged. ‘Dunno. Stevie said it wasn’t him what took them. But he lies a lot. Probably put them up on eBay. Vintage stuff’s worth a bob or two, innit.’
‘Note that,’ Monty instructed his minion. ‘Speak to Stevie to confirm. Get a description of the clothes.’
‘Anyway – there’s two tunnels here.’ Ben’s voice hit the walls and came back again. ‘That one down there, we think comes out in Bell Hill Wood.’
Baal Hill Wood, I thought. An underground temple. Carole had mentioned there was a legend …
‘We didn’t get far into it.’ Ben’s voice dropped out as if he’d turned round. ‘But this one goes up to the church.’
I could hear shoes shuffling off to one side and Ben saying, ‘Yeah – St Saviour’s. Comes out underneath the griffin. The one on the end of the pew. That’s what marks it. Not X marks the spot, but the wooden griffin.’
Sam tutted. ‘Of course it does. It was very draughty there, now I recall.’
But I didn’t answer. I wasn’t following them. I was too transfixed by the slab of stone. The carvings roughly hewn into it resembled a spiral and a crescent moon. And as I peered at them, my mind cast back to the strange vision I had experienced under the influence of aconite, the man sitting on an altar very much like this, whispering in my ear. Dorcus in the wood.
I had seen this place in my dream, hadn’t I? Or did I just think that now, because certain elements were similar? But there had been the altar and a man. And the man had dropped words into my ear. Fractured words, like a riddle. Something like a brain-teaser, a puzzle.
In my head I caught sight of the antlered man turning his red eyes on me just over there on the bank. I could hear the water in the brook.
‘Come out of the underworld. Take my hand.’
And then I was back in the dream with the dripping noise and his words and trickle of water and the darkness, Dorcus’s face flashing, the fairy lights flickering and the—
‘Rosie!’ said Sam and shook me. I opened my eyes and realised we were upstairs in the snug at The Griffin. ‘Are you all right?’ his voice had large quantities of concern woven into its texture. ‘You haven’t said a word since we came up from the caves. Though it’s quite understandable. Totally amazing wasn’t it?’
I blinked and focused on my surroundings – the fireplace, the window. ‘Eh? How did I get up here?’ I said. I was sitting at a table next to Sam, with Monty and the dark-suited minion.
Scrub, Ben and Bobby Brown had disappeared.
‘Oh dear.’ Monty tapped the table with a pen. ‘It’s not unlikely that you may experience flashbacks from time to time. It does happen to some people. I’d like Harry here to come and take some notes from you once all this has settled down. Such poisonings are not common these days.’
I was still frowning, trying to work out how I had lost that time.
Monty carried on and turned to Sam. ‘So, do we believe Mr Christmas’s story about the tunnel opening in St Saviour’s?’
‘What did he say?’ I asked, having missed that particular section of the tunnel system. Or at least having no memory of it.
Monty grimaced. Such inelegant expressions rarely passed over his face. But he kept his eyes light. ‘When he and Stephen followed the tunnel up, it came out underneath the raised pews. Took them quite a while to get the lid open but when they crawled through it they found Margot Lovelock watching them. What was it he said, Harry?’
Grey Suit fished out a notebook and read. ‘“The light was blinding”, sir.’
‘Go on,’ said Monty.
‘“There was that old woman there. She said, ‘My god you nearly scared me to death, you rascals. Come out of the underworld. Take my hand.’”’
I’d heard that too. The echoes and acoustics must have played havoc with my ears. And there was me thinking it a message from above.
‘That’s right,’ said Monty. ‘Turns out, our villain had come down to do a reccy before the course. And presumably commenced her plotting,’ he finished.
‘Margot promised not to tell anyone what the boys had discovered as long as they helped her,’ said Sam. ‘She told them they were perfect for something she had in mind: “a bit of a joke”. She didn’t know about their YouTube channel of course. Didn’t realise it was exactly the right line to take.’
‘Of course,’ Monty continued, ‘Ben denies any involvement with the various poisonings. Though he does admit to “pranking” Graham Peacock, which Stevie denies. Ben said he dressed up as a knight. But he thought he had just scared him, as required, then ran away. Said he didn’t see Peacock fall. Though we’ve only got his word for that. We’ll see what your friend, Sergeant Scrub makes of their plea.’
‘Mmm,’ I said. ‘That will be interesting I suppose. She’s a tough cookie.’
‘Aren’t we all,’ said Monty, with a wink right at me. He could look very saucy when he wanted to. ‘Right, Harry,’ he said, turning to Grey Suit. ‘Get the boys from Department Eight down on the trot and put this place on lockdown. Lots of potentials in the offing, I suspect,’ he added. I could tell from Sam’s face he had no idea what Monty was on about either.
The agent fixed his flinty dazzlers on us. ‘I’m assured I can expect confidentiality from my dear colleagues at the Witch Muse
um?’
‘About what?’ I said, and gave him a wink.
But Sam hadn’t got my joke. ‘Rosie,’ he said softly. ‘There are protocols for this kind of thing. Aspects need to be researched thoroughly before any of it gets leaked to the public.’
‘If it ever does,’ added Monty. ‘There’s quite a few lengthy procedures we must go through before anything that drastic occurs.’
‘Not to mention Health and Safety,’ I said quite seriously. ‘That scaffolding …’
‘Well, excellent,’ said Monty, wrapping up the conversation. ‘Thank you for your efforts with this one. Aunt Tabby and myself are extremely grateful.’
‘Which reminds me,’ I said. ‘Did you get anywhere with those requests of mine? Not the whisky one.’
Monty blinked. His eyes hardened for a moment then he smiled. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I succeeded with one of your, perhaps, foolhardy requirements.’
‘Then you absolutely have my discretion regarding the tunnels,’ I said. ‘What time and when?’
‘Tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Your appointment’s at three.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Araminta de Vere was pretty surprised to see me sitting at the dirty grey table in the visiting room, rather than Agent Walker. But at least she didn’t turn round and demand to be returned to her cell.
Denied a regular appointment at the hairdressers, her hair had lost some of its colour and the squat Farrah-Fawcett style had been cut short and blunt so she’d now got more of a Susan-Boyle-prior-to-X-Factor look going on.
She settled her big horsey behind onto the bolted-down chair and grunted. ‘I suppose you’ve come to find out if I’m sorry. To see me weep and wring my hands and get down on my knees and plead? Well, I’m afraid you’ve wasted your time. That’s not Araminta de Vere’s style,’ she said and thumbed her grey sweatshirt.
I’d forgotten how she referred to herself in the third person. And how crazy she was. My hopes of getting any coherent information started to fade.
‘No, actually,’ I said with a sigh. ‘I’ve already assumed you have no regrets. I bet you’d do the same again if you had to. Family reputation and all that malarkey.’