“We should probably go, don’t you think?” Malc was saying, disturbing his thoughts. “Adam may still be around. I doubt we’ve scared him off for long.”
25
“Are you going to be OK?” Malc said, as he pulled his car to a stop in front of Judy’s house.
“I’ll be fine. You?”
He nodded. “Crazy night. I’m sorry I called you, but knowing what Seth might do, it seemed like a good plan. I really did have no idea that Adam would be there.”
“How is that even possible? He was meant to have died on the night of the ghost hunt.”
“That’s what Seth told us.”
And they had no reason not to believe him. Although he hadn’t exactly been forthcoming about his own survival that night.
“You sound like you don’t believe him.”
“Seth’s past is complicated. I grew up with him. His sister dying ripped that family apart. It took time for them all to notice the extent of the damage but it was deep. I don’t think they will ever get over it. The ghost hunt was a bad idea. I warned him not to take part, but Seth was always his own man, you never quite know whether he will listen to you. Take his uncle’s will. It’s got disaster written all over it, yet he’s thrown himself into it without a second thought.”
“What else could he have done?”
“He could have said no. There are others that would have taken care of it.”
“The Vigilance Society,” she replied, pulling the name from a conversation she’d had with Seth. “You know them?”
Malc paused. “Not as well as I’d like. But they support nothing the Adherents do. They would keep the collection out of the wrong hands.”
“Seth hadn’t heard of them. He didn’t like giving up something that could be so dangerous.”
“He should have asked me.”
“You’re not his keeper, Malc. You’ve got to let him make his own decisions.”
“His decision to get involved at Ravenmeols cost lives.”
She shook her head. “Do you think if Seth had said no to the ghost hunt the Adherents would have abandoned the whole thing?”
Malc took a minute to answer. Eventually, he looked her in the eye. “Things would have played out differently. There are few individuals like Seth, or like you. The Adherents are drawn to the wrong kind of people. We’re lucky that it ended the way it did.”
“So, Adam’s back,” she continued. “What does that mean? Is he going to come after us?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t think he would. He’s been quiet all these months, lying low. Every time he makes a move, he’s exposing himself. Besides which, neither of us have anything he wants.”
“This scrap of painting.” Judy scratched her arm through her long-sleeved top. “And why does he need it?”
“You saw the state of Johnny. I don’t expect he’s got long left. This has got to be something to do with Adam being resurrected. He’s obsessed by the idea.”
“And when he’s walking around in his new body? What then?”
“He spent years at Ravenmeols building up the Adherents and it collapsed around him within hours. He’s unlikely to waste time doing that again. Adam’s got other plans. The Adherents were a means to an end.”
Judy waited for Malc to fill her in on what those aims were but he said nothing. “You don’t have a clue what he’s planning, have you?”
“That obvious, huh?”
“I never expected the vicar of a small church like St. Anns to know so much about this kind of stuff.”
“It’s late, Georgia’s going to be mad at me.”
Judy checked the time. “Oh, my God. Promise me you’ll call me once you’ve caught up with Seth.”
“I promise.”
She got out and waved as Malc sped off down the road.
Quite the night’s adventures. She glanced at her home, a fleeting image of Phil came to mind and she wondered what he’d have made of her escapades. Even spending time in a car with a vicar would have caused him concern. She shivered and went inside.
Before she had a chance to close the front door, a shape rushed from the kitchen and flung itself at her. Small arms threatened to crush her and squeeze the air from her lungs.
“Mum, where have you been?”
Jemma had been crying. A sharp pain pulled at her stomach. She winced and gently pushed her daughter back, looking at her face, instinctively checking for signs she’d been hurt.
“What’s happened? Are you OK?”
Jemma sniffed, then wiped her nose with a scraggy bit of toilet tissue. “Where were you?” she repeated.
“You’re meant to be at Molly’s,” Judy countered. “Why aren’t you?”
“We had a row. I came home.”
“You shouldn’t have done that. I need to know where you are, that you’re safe.”
Jemma was shaking. “There was someone following me on the way home.”
Judy’s heart froze. “What do you mean? Are you OK?” She tried to shove the panic aside, keep it buried until she understood the complete story.
“I thought she was just some random.” There was a hint of anger in Jemma’s voice and it warmed Judy. The first sign that she was OK. “But she followed me down Gleneagles and then across Kenilworth. And she was getting closer. So, I went up Hillsview thinking I could get ahead of her under the bridge and see if she really was following me.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I did Mum! But you weren’t answering.”
Judy checked her phone and saw that there were ten missed calls and five messages. “I’m so sorry. I was at the hospital. It messes with the reception.” As if that were any excuse. “What happened?”
“There was already somebody under the bridge. Another woman. She looked like she wasn’t going to let me past. I turned around, but the first was right behind me. I don’t know how she got so close without me hearing her.” Jemma was fighting tears. Judy tried pulling her in for a hug but her daughter resisted, pushing her back. “Why weren’t you here?”
“I’m sorry, I was helping a friend,” Judy said, heat rising to her cheeks. “Did they hurt you?”
Jemma shook her head and took a deep breath. “They knew who I was. They gave me a message. For you.” And Jemma glanced up at her mum, eyes wide and scared. “They said you had to keep out of it. That if you wanted to protect me, you had to stay away from Seth and his friends. If you didn’t…” She passed her phone to Judy. A giant crack split the screen in two.
26
Malc had hoped to slip inside the vicarage without Georgia noticing but he was too late. He saw her standing at the kitchen window, looking out into the garden, then as soon as she saw him, she stepped back.
Joe was at the kitchen table, watching Peppa Pig on Georgia’s iPhone, eating dry Frosties with his fingers.
“Morning mate, sleep OK?”
“Good thanks,” his son replied, not letting his gaze slip from the cartoon action on the phone’s screen.
Malc went to his wife, who was now busy wiping down the kitchen surfaces, and tried to put his arm around her. She froze, then brushed the arm aside, flinging the used dishcloth back into the sink.
Her eyes were lined with tiny red veins, a sure sign she’d been crying. Shadows sat beneath the eyes, partially hidden by makeup.
“Don’t.” Her tone was sharp and could have cracked a glacier.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stay out so late.”
“What was it this time? Seth again?” She said his name like she was referring to a common excuse. Malc stepped away and went to the kettle, flicking the switch and fetching a cup from the hooks under the cupboard.
“Yes. Seth.”
“Well?”
“Well, what?” Malc resisted the instinct to shrug. This was the same argument they’d been having all week, and he knew the dance well. There was little to be gained from any of it. No matter what Malc said, it wouldn’t change the fact that Ge
orgia didn’t like Seth. She didn’t like that he’d been living in their house for weeks rent-free, nor that he had this career selling his services to lonely people desperate to speak to their loved ones in the afterlife, nor that he got on so well with Joe who would talk of no one else.
“If you’re going to leave the house in the middle of the night on some errand for your friend, you should at least have the decency to tell me what it was about.”
“He was having a problem back at the house.”
“What problem?”
“His boiler wouldn’t start. He thought he could smell gas.”
Malc hated how easily the lies came to him. But the alternative was worse, the alternative was telling her all about what happened at Ravenmeols and the situation with Adam Cowl. She might hate it when he kept things from her but that had got to be better than living in fear of what these people might be prepared to do.
“So, he calls the gas company out. Why would you go around? You’re useless with boilers.”
Fair point.
“He hasn’t enough cash at the moment to pay for an engineer.” It was a painfully poor lie but now that he’d chosen that route, he was going to stick with it. Thankfully, Joe choose that juncture to spill his drink over the kitchen table. Georgia lifted her phone and set it aside, and Malc tossed her a tea towel that she used to mop up the apple juice. Joe’s bottom lip began to tremble.
“Hey, don’t worry. It’s just juice,” Malc said, patting the boy on the shoulder.
“It’s the second time he’s done that this morning. I’ve told him not to watch the phone whilst he’s eating breakfast.”
“So why give it to him?”
She rounded on Malc, tossing the wet tea towel back at him. “I have to get ready for work and get Joe ready for school. All whilst you’re nowhere to be found. Your phone isn’t sharing your location. You’ve gone off grid. Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do.” She tried to compose herself.
“You’re done with breakfast, Joe. It’s time to get dressed for school.”
“But I’ve not finished.”
“Now, Joe.”
Joe looked to his dad but Malc nodded firmly. “Go on, do as your mum says.”
“You had a phone call. I’m guessing it wasn’t a parishioner. They usually have the decency to wait until after breakfast before calling.”
Malc spooned coffee into his cup. “Who was it? What did they want?”
“To be honest, I could do without their shitty attitude. There’s no need to be so bloody rude.”
“What did they say? Who was it?” Malc abandoned his coffee making, an uncomfortable swirling sensation was stirring in his stomach.
“It was a woman. She wanted to speak to you. When I said you weren’t here, she asked me to remind you you’d promised to keep out of it. I don’t know what it might be referring to and she didn’t elaborate. What was she talking about?”
“It’s some parishioners. There’s an argument about who’s running the church stall at the fete. I agreed I’d leave it to the wardens to decide. There’s a rota or something that some are trying to ignore.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she shook her head. “That’s probably the laziest lie you’ve told me yet.”
“You’re so quick to dismiss anything I tell you as a lie.”
“For a man of the church you’re pretty damn secretive.”
“I tell you everything.”
“You tell me when it’s convenient to do so. You tell Seth more than you tell me.”
“I’ve got nothing to say. You know everything.”
“What happened at Ravenmeols?”
Malc balked at the word, swallowed a spit of bile at the back of his throat.
Georgia was on one, and there were no signs she would let this go. “You were there with Seth the night of the fire. You told me that much, sure, but not why you had to get Seth in the first place, or how you knew he was there. That’s the detail that’s missing, that’s what’s been driving me crazy. Did you just think you could go on never telling me?”
“I told you all I could.”
“And you should have known me well enough to see that I never bought the story of Seth’s depression. I cried for him you know. I realised it was the anniversary of his sister’s death and that got to me. But you never noticed. It was all about him.”
“He was grieving.”
“He was grieving?” The words were cutting in her throat, Malc thought she might choke on them. She never spoke like this. Never.
“I know we were going through our own stuff.”
“Our own stuff being the death of our daughter. Is that the stuff you mean?”
“Georgia, don’t talk like that.”
Georgia was fifteen weeks pregnant with their second child when she’d miscarried. That had been the day before Seth’s excursion to Ravenmeols.
“I’ll talk however I bloody well like. I might be married to a vicar, but that is some way distant from me being a saint.”
“Joe will hear.”
“Joe will find out at some point.”
“No. He doesn’t need to know. What are you saying?”
She hesitated and Malc saw the sudden flash of shame in her eyes. She looked away, back up at the ceiling, then wandered to the sink and turned on the water. She splashed water on her face and switched off the tap, grabbing a tea towel and dabbing the water away. Her eyes were puffy and Malc saw the hard set to her jaw, the arms folded in front of her, and recognised the vulnerable woman he’d rushed to the hospital the morning of the miscarriage.
A cupboard banged from Joe’s bedroom. They couldn’t do this here with their son in the house.
“I’m sorry. I thought I was being supportive. I thought I could be a friend and a husband. I think I’ve failed at both.”
“I thought you’d given up.”
“Never.”
“That you would hide in the church and never come out.”
“It’s too cold. And the wardens are too nosey and gossip.”
The corners of her lips edged up. There, that’s the old you right there, he thought, keep it going.
Malc continued, “It won’t always be like this. We’re still young. We can always—”
Her mouth straightened. The fire returned to her eyes. “What? Have another? It’s that easy for you isn’t it? One little miscarriage and we’ll put it behind us and move onto the next baby.”
Malc stiffened. That wasn’t what he meant at all. He’d have been better off saying nothing. No matter what he’d say, she would find a way to twist it into something unpleasant.
“This environment is too stressful. There’s too much deceit. Too many lies to raise a child in. I can’t believe you’ve done this to our family, driven me to the point of…”
“What? Driven you to the point of what?”
Her eyes met his. “To the point of being glad we won’t have to raise our daughter in this environment. It was for the best.”
Malc shoved her. It came from nowhere but the days of frustration had to channel out or it would burn him alive. She fell against the kitchen table, and her hand reached for an object. She picked up her cup and Malc had a horrifying image of her throwing it at his head. Her nostrils flared and her chest rose with anger.
“Why are you fighting?” Joe stood beside them in the doorway, his school shirt hanging out of his trousers, and inside out. A spat of toothpaste clung to his lower lip.
Malc stepped around Georgia who quickly lowered the cup and set it on the draining board. “No one’s arguing. Come on, let’s get your shirt on the right way.” But as he redressed him, he could see the pain in his son’s eyes, the slightly widened eyes, the flush of colour to his cheeks. “I promise, everything’s OK.”
“Are you ready, Joe? It’s time to leave for school.” Georgia flashed a smile, but it didn’t have the strength to stay on her face for long. She was hurting too.
Joe, now redressed and shirt tucked in, looke
d from one to the other of his parents, before glumly walking to the hooks in the hall. He climbed onto his helper step and reached for his school bag. Whilst out of earshot, Malc took Georgia’s hand. She tried to pull away but Malc gripped tightly, not letting go of the moment. “You’re right. The vicarage isn’t the safest place to raise a kid. But not for the reasons you think.” He glanced at Joe in the hallway. “Put the TV on in the front room. Let him watch more cartoons. There’s more I need to tell you. About what’s going on. About who I really am.”
27
What a night. Seth collapsed on his bed at his uncle’s house, no, get this right, his house, and stared up at the ceiling. Cobwebs had formed in the corners and around the pendent light fitting above his bed. Another reminder that the place needed some TLC.
When he’d got back to the house, he’d found a large IKEA bag on the doorstep with a whole load of new bedding and a note from Georgia. She’d gone out to buy some for him, suspecting that he might need it after his caravan had been taken away by his landlord. Another couple of bags of groceries had been beside it. He’d felt like crying then.
Now, after a belly full of toast and cheese, he was feeling a little more human but every muscle in him ached for peace. The digging at Marsden was a major cause of it he knew, but racing through Ravenmeols and the trauma of being tied to that chair at the mercy of Adam were contributing factors.
The bed was comfortable and Seth suspected it had never been used. Why Lamont had furnished these additional bedrooms at all was a mystery if he’d never any intention of using them. Perhaps he really had toyed with the idea of setting this place up as a bed-and-breakfast.
Underneath him, at the bottom of the house, the collection rumbled. It had been unsettled since he’d got home. The painting and the book were everything. Seth was sure that the Book of the Fourth had more answers than Adam was prepared to admit. Without it, the Adherents wouldn’t have attempted to reincarnate Adam at Ravenmeols. The book had been crucial.
The Dark Corners Box Set Page 39