“Oh, it was real,” I said. “I wish it wasn’t, but there’s no use trying to pretend it didn’t happen. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
She leaned forward. “And there’s something I haven’t told you, something I haven’t told anybody.”
“What?”
“When I saw you, I was in the Exeter passages—they’re tunnels underground. And there was a black stone down there, and when I saw you, you were on it, or rather, you were floating above it. And here’s the thing.” She paused and lowered her voice before she went on. “The black stone down there, it was exactly the same size and shape as the one at Scaderstone. Exactly the same.”
We stared at each other in silence. And in that moment, Cally’s phone began to ring.
Chapter 12
1919
TREVOR STOOD AND STARED into the gloom beneath the trees surrounding Scaderstone Rock. Stupid! he thought. I can’t see a bloody thing! He’d known it would be completely dark by the time he got here, but he hadn’t accounted for the lack of street lights and the dense shadows beneath the trees. Idiot!
But he shouldn’t let the darkness stop him. It was still early and there was nothing to be afraid of. If he chose his path carefully, if he watched where he was going, he should be all right for a few minutes. He just wanted to get a feel for the place, that was all.
He walked forward, picking his way through the damp undergrowth. A briar snagged his trousers and pierced the material, prickling his thigh. He tutted under his breath and stepped back, but the thorns had thoroughly snagged the fabric and he couldn’t get free. “For god’s sake,” he muttered. He took hold of the briar and carefully peeled it away from his trousers, smoothing down the fabric with his fingers. It felt like a few threads had been pulled out and he cursed under his breath. He should never have come here in his best suit. Now he’d have to meet Grigson and Matthews in his only other decent pair of trousers, and they didn’t match his good jacket. He’d look stupid.
He sighed in frustration. It was almost as if someone was trying to tell him to go home—his common sense probably. He should listen.
But he was here now, so he might as well press on. He checked the luminous hands on his watch. He’d give it ten minutes, but no more.
Trevor moved on, walking farther into the murky shadows beneath the straggly trees and wading through the sodden undergrowth. Something crunched underfoot with the brittle, grating sound of splintering glass. Trevor hesitated. Someone had been in here: a drunk probably, or a filthy tramp. Well that would have to stop. He’d suggest the place be fenced off immediately. Barbed wire would do for a start, but then a more permanent solution would be needed to keep people out. He made a mental note. Matthews would like the idea of a solid fence, eight feet high. People like Matthews were always keen to hold onto their possessions. And that goes for his precious daughter too, Trevor thought, bitterly.
He pictured his beloved Iris and the memory of her smile cheered him on. She was the real reason he was here. He had to push himself. He had to work harder than anyone else if he was going to make himself worthy of her. It was nothing to do with her pompous father; the man was nothing more than a stuffed shirt.
Trevor pressed on and soon the undergrowth gave way to rocky ground. I must be getting near, he thought. He chose a route between two gnarled trees and pushed his way through. When he stepped out onto the other side he found himself standing on the edge of an area of open ground with only bare rock underfoot. “This is it,” he whispered, and he turned around slowly, drinking in every detail of the place.
It wasn’t a huge area for a quarry, perhaps the size of a football pitch, but it was impressive in its own way. The moon had risen, and its scant light picked out the ungainly shapes of the loose rocks littering the ground. The moonlight threw every rugged boulder into sharp relief and painted every jagged fissure with sharp shadows. Above him, the sheer face of Scaderstone Rock loomed like the mighty side of a castle wall: scattered clumps of blackthorn in the place of fortifications, dark caves in the place of windows, and hanging from every ledge, the long, trailing banners of dangling ivy.
Trevor took a deep breath and let his eyes run across the rock face, taking in the stark, untamed beauty of the place. Even in this dim light he could see that the brutal, bare rock was softened by the ferns and other plants that clung desperately to cracks in the stone. And there were even a few stunted trees growing out from the rock face at crazy angles.
In some ways, it was a shame Matthews had got this place in his clutches. It had a certain savage grandeur. But Matthews would tear it all down, crushing it to dust beneath his heel. Trevor took a deep breath, enjoying the chill freshness of the air, and pushed the thoughts of Matthews from his mind.
“Oh well,” he muttered. It was time for him to take a look around. It was no use standing there and getting sentimental about the place. In many ways, Matthews was right: progress was what the country needed. And since Matthews’ plans provided such a golden opportunity for Trevor to advance his career, then that was the way it had to be. Trevor lowered his gaze and walked on, looking from side to side as he crossed the centre of the open ground. When he reached the other side, he realised that the rock face wasn’t as uniform as he’d thought. There was a deep gorge in the rock, as though a huge, v-shaped chunk of the stone had been gouged out, leaving a gap that was several yards wide.
It looks like a secret valley, he thought. But it’s too far from the river. He tilted his head to one side. Rivers could come and go if you looked back far enough, but this gorge looked like it had been formed by subsidence. There was a narrow cleft in the rock just to one side of the gorge. As far as he could see, the cleft ran right down through the rock, all the way from the top edge of the rock face to ground level. Trevor pursed his lips. There might be a problem here, he thought. Taken together, the cleft and the gorge suggested that the rock face was unstable. Limestone was notoriously prone to water erosion, and there could easily be a water course hidden beneath the surface. That could cause complications when it came to quarrying the stone. The area would have to be examined thoroughly. Mr. Matthews would not like it if unforeseen complications delayed his new venture.
Trevor peered into the narrow gorge, but it was too dark to see anything properly. And anyway, the relatively sheltered area within the gorge was thick with a dark tangled mass of brambles. Trevor thought back to the briars he’d already struggled through and made a quick decision: he wouldn’t venture into the gorge in the dark, but he’d tell the survey team to pay particular attention to the area.
Trevor nodded to himself. This was good. This was exactly the sort of thing he’d come to find out. But he’d seen enough. He’d done his best under difficult circumstances, and it was time he went home. But as he turned away, he heard a sound that made him freeze in his tracks.
No! It wasn’t possible. But there it was again. There could be no mistake. Somewhere, out there in the freezing darkness, a baby was crying its heart out.
Trevor span around, scanning the shadows. But the harsh wailing cries echoed eerily around the empty space, rebounding from the bare rock and crowding in on him from every direction. He shook his head in disbelief. This was ridiculous. No one would bring a child to such a place. Surely his mind was playing tricks on him. It was the cry of a fox perhaps. Or a screech owl. But no. The wailing went on, rising in pitch, becoming a desperate scream.
That sound could only come from a baby, Trevor told himself. But what should he do? Should he fetch the police? Trevor ran his hand through his hair, pressing his fingertips hard against his scalp. Yes. The police would know to handle this. Something was very wrong here and he couldn’t deal with it himself. But even if he ran, it would take him twenty minutes to get to the police station. He might find a phone box sooner, but he couldn’t think where the nearest one might be. And once he’d telephoned, it could be quite some time before a constable arrived.
There was nothing for it. If a young child was
outside on a cold winter night like this, then every second was vital. He’d have to do something about it, and he’d have to make it quick.
“Hello?” he called out. “Hello? Is there somebody there?” There was no answer.
He thought back to the broken glass. He’d imagined a tramp had been trespassing, but perhaps there was a vagrant out here: a destitute mother, huddled away in the dark with her baby.
“Do you need help?” he called. But still there was no answer. She’s afraid, Trevor thought. Scared of the authorities. He’d have to be careful how he handled this or she’d run into the night and then he’d never find her. “I mean you no harm,” he said, keeping his voice as steady as he could. “You can’t stay out here. It’s too cold. Let me see if I can help you.”
Trevor took a slow, steadying breath. The baby’s cries ran through him, set his teeth on edge, and his heart beat ten to the dozen. But none of that mattered. He wouldn’t stand by and see a woman in distress. He strode forward. The sound was clearer now and it seemed to be coming from within the narrow gorge. He squared his shoulders and stood tall. “Tell me where you are,” he called out. “It’s all right. I’m not a policeman.”
He took a few more steps toward the gorge. “Hello? Are you in there? Come out so I can see you.” He swallowed hard. The gorge swallowed up what little light there was; he could see very little. There could be ten drunken tramps in there for all he knew. And if they were lying in wait for him, he’d make himself an easy target. But what choice did he really have?
“I’m coming in there now,” he said. “I don’t have any money with me—nothing like that. But I’d like to see that you’re all right.” He took a step forward.
And the crying stopped, as suddenly as if someone had thrown a switch.
“Hello?” Trevor shouted. “Are you still there?”
Silence.
He stood perfectly still, listening. Up above, the wind whispered through the treetops, rattling the bare branches against each other. Somewhere, a tree trunk creaked and groaned as it swayed.
Trevor exhaled noisily. This was ridiculous. It was no time to play cat and mouse. A child’s life was at stake, and yet someone would rather hide away than accept his help. “I know you’re in there somewhere,” he said. “And I won’t leave until I know your baby is all right.” He took a few more steps forward, listening. The baby must still be somewhere within the gorge; it must be a dead end, and there was no way anyone could’ve slipped past him. He opened his mouth to call again. But then he heard a different sound. And it chilled his blood.
A whisper hissed gently through the darkness, like the merest suggestion of a sound floating through the cold air. “Get out of here,” it whispered. “Get out, and never come back.”
“What?” Trevor scanned the shadows. “Is someone…is someone there?” And now the whisper was louder, as if someone was standing at his shoulder, murmuring into his ears. “Get out of here. Get out!”
Trevor stepped back, stumbling over a loose stone. He shook his head. “I was just…just trying to help.”
“Get out of here! Out of here!”
Trevor turned around, facing back the way he’d come. The dark gorge was behind him now, and he pictured someone creeping from the shadows. His skin crawled. I need to find the baby, he thought. I still need to find it. But he found himself looking for the path he’d taken just a few minutes ago. “I’ll give you some room,” he called out. “I won’t come near. Just tell me you’re all right.”
“Go,” the voice hissed. “Go now, while you still have a chance.”
Trevor stumbled along the path. “All right,” he cried out, and his voice was hoarse. “I’m doing what you ask, just…don’t hurt the baby.”
A hollow chuckle echoed around him, amplified by the emptiness. Trevor walked faster, looking frantically from side to side. A surge of panic twisted in his guts. He headed for the gap between the gnarled trees, but as soon as he stepped between them, the eerie laughter grew louder, harsher, rejoicing in his terror.
And Trevor ran. He staggered blindly forward, branches whipping at his chest, his face, his hair. His breath came fast, the cold night air stinging his throat. In moments, he reached the edge of the site and changed direction, heading for the path that led back into town, but he didn’t slow down. And he didn’t stop running until there was solid tarmac beneath his feet and a lamp post at his side.
He staggered to a halt and bent over, resting his hands on his knees while he struggled to catch his breath. This is madness, he thought. Madness. He shook his head then stood up straight, staring into the empty street ahead of him. The street lights cast their pale pools of light on the pavement, and along the tidy row of houses, the downstairs windows were all lit with the same friendly glow. Inside, people would be huddled around their fires or sitting down to tea, their tables freshly laid with bread and butter, cakes and pastries. It was all so safe, so normal.
Trevor put his hand to his mouth. If only he had a cigarette. But he’d given them up: Iris preferred the smell of cigars and he couldn’t afford such luxury. “Damn it,” he whispered. He took a breath and blew it out, a plume of water vapour condensing in front of him and curling up into the wintry air. I just don’t know, he thought. I don’t know what to do. He could go to the police. But the whispered voices and ghostly laughter could not have been real. It just wasn’t possible. And if the voices were caused by his mind playing tricks on him, he must have imagined the baby’s cries as well.
Trevor looked down at the state of his clothes and shook his head. His shoes were filthy and his trousers were damp and spattered with mud. He couldn’t go to the police like this. They’d think he’d been to the pub after work and had one too many. They’d laugh in his face. And he didn’t know who might see him going into the police station. This was a small town. People talked.
A little way along the street, a door opened and a woman stepped out, closing the door quickly then pausing to wrap a headscarf around her hair. She glanced in Trevor’s direction and looked him up and down before walking hurriedly away.
Trevor watched her anxious retreat and he made his mind up. He could not have people looking askance at him, and he couldn’t afford gossip. Especially not now, just when things were starting to happen for him.
He was finally getting somewhere, and he couldn’t throw it all away on a flight of fancy. I made a mistake, he thought. That’s all. Just a stupid mistake. Then he turned up the collar of his coat and set off for home. He walked as quickly as he could. And he didn’t look back.
Chapter 13
2021
SIMON PACED THE ROOM, his phone pressed against his ear while he waited for Cally to answer his call. And the moment he heard her voice, he launched into his explanation. “Listen, Cally love, so sorry to bother you in the evening, but something’s come up.”
He let Cally complain for a moment, tuning her out as he crossed to the table and scribbled some notes on a pad. “Anyway, I’m sure you’ll want to know about this. There’s been a really interesting find. No, it’s not here. It’s quite a few miles away. But they’ve taken it to the museum at Grand-Pressigny, and I’d like you to go over there in the morning and take a look at it.”
Again, he let her objections wash over him. “I’ll send Gerard over to you in the morning—he doesn’t speak much English, bless him, but he’s a local so he’ll make short work of the driving. It’ll only take you about two hours to get there, and it’ll do you good to get a break from the dig. We’ll just have to struggle on without you.” He restrained the urge to chuckle. Cally was a wonderful asset for the show, but sometimes she could be hard work, and he was already looking forward to a morning without arguments.
She was saying something about expenses now, but he cut her off. “Yes, yes, that’s all fine. But listen, I haven’t told you the best part yet. This is your big chance, Cally, darling. I want this new find in the show, but I need to keep Imogen here or the schedule will be shot to
hell, so I need you to do a piece to camera. Gerard will handle the filming, and he’s a joy to work with, he really is.”
He rolled his eyes as Cally complained. She wasn’t fooling anyone. Simon knew this was the opportunity she’d been waiting for, and with her natural good looks, he was certain that the camera would love her. “You’ll be wonderful,” he said. “I only wish I could be there to see it for myself. So don’t worry about a thing, my love, it’s all been arranged. The car will pick you up at half past seven. Call me tomorrow, let me know how it went. Bye for now.” He took the phone from his ear and was about to end the call when he realised Cally was still talking. He sighed, and held the phone up again. “What was that, Cally love?” He listened for a moment. “Oh yes, sorry. I forgot to tell you. It’s some sort of jewellery. A whole collection. It’s unique—at least 20 pieces, all found together and beautifully preserved. From what I hear, they’re nicely carved so they’ll be great for the show. There could be some media attention, so that’s why we’ve got to move fast. Oh, and you’ll like this, they think it must be very early stuff. Maybe even Neolithic.” He paused, enjoying Cally’s sudden silence. “I must dash. We’ll talk again tomorrow. Bye Cally.” And he ended the call before she had a chance to respond.
Chapter 14
2021
I TOYED WITH MY FOOD while Cally talked on the phone. I couldn’t help hearing what she was saying, but none of it made much sense. And her expression didn’t help; she looked excited, angry, and scared all at the same time. I took a sip of wine and waited patiently for her to finish the call.
When she finally put her phone down on the table she shot me a puzzled look and said, “That was weird.”
“Is everything OK?” I asked. “It wasn’t bad news was it?”
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