The Turnarounders and the Arbuckle Rescue

by Heneghan, Lou

  ‘The Thinning Veil?’ she said. ‘It’s all I’ve been hearing from Gran all week. She’s obsessed with it.’

  ‘Why? What does it mean?’

  ‘Strange things are happening.’

  ‘Like the stuff that’s been happening in the village?’

  ‘Yes, but more than that too. No rabbits in the traps. Odd shadows in the woods. The men are spooked. Boris says he heard wolves howling two nights ago. Gran says the Veil is getting thinner. But anyone who follows the Old Religion would tell you that.’

  Ralf was shocked. ‘She’s a Pagan?’

  ‘You needn’t say it like that!’ exclaimed Kat.

  ‘He was just surprised is all,’ said Leo quickly. ‘We didn’t think anyone remembered the Old Ways.

  ‘You’re joking aren’t you?’ Kat laughed ‘There’s loads of them round here. They don’t talk about it. Go to church and everything but they’re right superstitious in King’s Hadow. My Gran says:

  ‘There’s many who says their prayers all right,

  Who won’t walk abroad on All Souls Night!’ ’

  ‘Sounds reasonable,’ Leo smiled.

  Listen to us, Ralf thought. We understand all about the Ancient Beliefs. We must do. If any part of what Ambrose said was true, then we are part of them! We’re just having problems digging up the forgotten knowledge. He waited for Kat to explain in the hopes that something – anything – she said would flick a switch that would turn on his memories.

  ‘Pagans believe that there are two worlds. Our world, the one that we can see, hear and touch all around us and another world that we can’t see – the world of the dead. The two are separated by a thin barrier or ‘Veil’ but at certain times, well, like tonight, actually – Hallowe’en – and the mid-summer and mid-winter solstices, the ‘Veil’ becomes thinner and it’s possible to travel between the two places. It’s at those times that folk remember the dead.’

  ‘So Urk was telling me that the barrier between the living and the dead is getting weaker? Is that what you think?’

  ‘Oh, Ralf, I’m in such a state with dreams at the moment, I hardly know what to think. If Urk has been talking to you, I’m not surprised you’re in a bit of a funk. Sometimes just looking at him is enough to give me the shivers.’

  Ralf snorted. ‘I know what you mean. There is something very – er – unsettling about him, isn’t there?’

  ‘Even his farm gives me the heebie-jeebies,’ said Kat. ‘And Chalky. We went past his gate earlier and he went bananas whining and cringing.’ She raised her eyebrows at their confused expressions. ‘I was talking about Chalky there, not Mr Fitch.’

  Leo laughed. ‘It was hard to tell for a second! We would have believed you either way.’

  They parted then, with the two boys promising to visit Kat soon and carried on down the lane.

  Ralf knew what Seth would say about a world of the dead. Dead is dead. They don’t have a world. Just graveyards.

  Ralf had a sudden thought. ‘What if the ‘Veil’ doesn’t separate the living and dead but is, instead, a barrier between different Times? If the ‘Veil’ is thinning, wouldn’t that explain all the time Falls?’

  ‘Makes sense,’ said Leo. ‘But if some people here believe all that world of the dead stuff, what’s to say someone else won’t use what they believe to their advantage?’

  ‘Yes!’ Ralf exclaimed, understanding immediately. ‘If you’re trying to scare the pants of somebody the best time to do it has got to be when everyone thinks the ‘Veil’ is at its thinnest. It’s the spookiest night of the year, isn’t it? Hallowe’en. I bet there’ll be cod up the chimney at Hawkes Manor before morning!’

  ‘Yep,’ said Leo. ‘But what else will happen tonight, I wonder?’

  They went on then, towards the last rays of orange light in the sky. Neither felt the desire to Shift anymore but forged on in silence as the woods stretched skyward to swallow the sun. As they walked, the country around them came alive. The hedgerows rustled, cattle lowed from Sedley Farm across the fields, foxes barked and leathery wings flapped in the trees. An owl hooted above them and Ralf had to concentrate to stop his feet from faltering. They pressed on.

  By the time they reached Fitch’s place evening was falling but there was still enough light to see. Ralf had never seen a building in a worse state of repair and, having lived for a year at Janus Gate, that was really saying something. Two miles from the village, the farm crouched atop a lone hill. On one side were skeletal trees, hawthorn and ploughed black fields, which bordered the back of the Sedleys’ place. On the other side was the dark expanse of Tarzy Wood.

  ‘Remind me again why we’re doing this now,’ said Leo. ‘Wouldn’t this be easier in the day time?’

  ‘Urk Fitch is a recluse,’ Ralf said. ‘He hardly ever goes out and when he does he’s not gone very long. We could hang around after school every night on the off chance that he pops out for cabbage or something, but that might take weeks, or we can get it over with and look now.’

  ‘But he’s there,’ said Leo. ‘Are we going to go and ask him if we can wander round the farm looking for a Time Fall? Because, I’m telling you now, I’ve got a feeling that he won’t be too friendly.’

  ‘No, Leo,’ said Ralf. ‘We’re going to wait for him to go to bed which, if the rumours of his miserliness are true, should be when it gets dark.’ He looked at Leo’s puzzled face. ‘He doesn’t like wasting his paraffin on lighting.’

  ‘Alright,’ said Leo. ‘Sounds like a plan. Not a very good one, but at least it’s a plan. Come on. No point putting it off any longer.’

  The sound of their feet was too loud, but they pressed on to a sheltered spot under a stand of evergreens at the side of the lane. Then they sat down on a mat of fallen needles to wait.

  By six o’clock, Ralf and Leo had seen Urk Fitch feed his few moth eaten hens and bring in two scrawny cows from a far field. At half past six they watched a magpie land on the gatepost, then circle the farm and arrow across the fields towards the Sedleys’. They each gave the bird a superstitious salute, a gesture that now felt necessary rather than funny. At seven, Fitch shut his front door with a dull thud. Even from their position, Ralf and Leo heard bolts being driven across the door. Night had fallen and Urk Fitch would be in for the rest of it.

  Ralf flicked on his torch and he and Leo got to their feet.

  ‘I have a question about the plan,’ said Leo, looking dubiously at the dark fields around them.

  ‘I know what you’re going to say,’ said Ralf. ‘Time Falls shimmer. Seth says it should actually be easier to see them in the dark.’

  ‘Right,’ said Leo, grinning. ‘Just thought I’d check. Let’s crack on then.’

  They walked slowly, side by side, the torch sweeping in front of them. Now the only sounds were the faint huffing of the cows. Leo shone the light to see them dejectedly sniffing at three dead crows hanging from the gate.

  ‘Why are they there anyway?’ Leo whispered.

  ‘They’re supposed to frighten other crows away,’ said Ralf.

  ‘I wish we could take them down.’

  ‘And do what with them?’

  ‘I dunno. Bury them? It’s not right hanging them up like that,’ Leo said. ‘I’ve got a bad feeling –’

  ‘Shhh! Did you hear –?’

  Leo tilted his head and listened intently. ‘I can’t hear anything. But, I’ve got this feeling–’

  ‘Shhh. There! Listen. There’s something–’

  There was rustling from the depths of the wood behind them. Then came the unmistakable sound of something large hurtling towards them. A shadow bolted from the trees. A streaking shape hit Ralf’s chest and proceeded to scour his cheek with a rough, wet tongue.

  ‘Cabal!’ Ralf yelped, his voice cracking.

  The dog gave a muffled yip in answer and turned his attention to the other cheek. Ralf hugged him fiercely.

  ‘I not sure which of you looks more pleased,’ smiled Leo. ‘Do you think Brindle
’s out looking for him?’

  ‘If she is, it’s not because she’s worried about him,’ said Ralf. ‘Feel his ribs! For a dog that’s not being walked enough, he’s way too thin.’

  Leo was quiet for a while but then spoke softly. ‘You’ll have to take him back to her, you know that don’t you?’

  Ralf nodded. ‘I’ll go in the morning,’ he said stiffly. ‘But I’m going to tell her what I think of her when I do.’ He didn’t meet Leo’s eye. He didn’t want to be talked out of it. He was going to tell the vicious old hag the right way to look after a dog, any dog, but especially this one.

  He felt Cabal tense beneath his hand. His ears pricked a second before a mournful lowing filled the air.

  ‘Sefton,’ said Leo. ‘Sedley’s bull,’ he added when he saw Ralf’s blank expression.

  Leo stretched out a hand to calm Cabal. It did no good. The dog skittered forward a few paces, nose pointing in the direction of the Sedley farm.

  Then for the third time since they’d fallen through the hole in Time at the side of the Thames, Ralf felt truly, desperately afraid. Away across the fields was a terrible wail followed by the mournful howl of a dog. Ralf’s neck pricked hotly and his stomach churned.

  ‘We’re in the wrong place!’ Leo hissed a second before Ralf could voice the same thought. ‘The back gate at the other end of the lane!’ The pair sprinted away from Merle Farm, down the narrow lane in the direction of the Sedleys’. Cabal bounded ahead of them. A second wail came just as they stopped at the gate where Cabal pawed the ground and ran back and forth, growling. There was nothing for a moment and then a low scraping sound. A high full moon broke from behind a cloud and the two boys strained their eyes towards the Sedleys’ farmhouse.

  Then everything seemed to happen at once. There was a noise, like a stick being dragged along a panelled fence, a furious barking began inside the house and the boys saw a dark figure flit across the Sedleys’ yard. In a blur of speed the figure overturned barrels and knocked down tools then vanished behind the house. There was a shattering of glass and the front door bust open to reveal Old Mr Sedley silhouetted in a square of light, all thoughts of blackout regulations forgotten.

  An excited sheep dog bounded outside and cut across the yard to reach the first trees. He barked once and Cabal answered with a warning howl. Unthinking, both Ralf and Leo had started to run towards the house but they froze in their tracks as the wail came again. A cry somewhere between a screech and a scream cut the night so close they felt their hair stand on end. Old Mr Sedley dropped to his knees. The sheepdog raced back from where he’d come, tail between his legs, nearly knocking the old man over in its frantic attempt to get back inside.

  Leo clutched at Ralf’s arm with one hand and pointed with the other. ‘Look!’

  A bank of shadows rolled and undulated from the woods at the edge of the property, surging forward like waves on the sand at high tide. For a second Ralf was transfixed by them but then shook himself and looked up to the moon and back to the trees hardly believing what he saw. The shadows rippled forward on a wind that wasn’t there (the trees were unnaturally silent and still) and seemed to crawl forward towards the light. The bloodcurdling cry came again and Ralf felt all sense of purpose drain from him.

  The spell was abruptly broken by a deafening blast as a gunshot shook everything. Ralf and Leo threw themselves flat on the lane. When they looked up again it was to see seventeen-year-old Walter Sedley in the doorway, shotgun in hand, yelling into the night. Alfie was standing right next to him, brandishing a pitchfork.

  ‘Get away from here!’ Walter shouted blindly into the dark. ‘I’m warning you!’

  He hauled his father to his feet and hustled him inside as Alfie grabbed the demented sheepdog, dragged him over the threshold and slammed the door fast shut. Bolts thumped home.

  Ralf shot a look at the area of trees from which the moving shadows had come.

  ‘They’re being sucked back in!’ hissed Leo.

  He was right. The shadows were retreating, slowly at first, then more rapidly like oil rolling down a hill.

  ‘The Fall!’ Ralf said. ‘They’re going back through the Fall. There, by the gate!’

  Cabal, who was still at Ralf’s heels, yipped in agreement.

  The two boys and the dog took a few hesitant steps forward. Even Cabal seemed to be watching in awe as the thick black shadows bubbled back from where they had come. He growled then, low in his throat, and with a bark of challenge raced after them.

  ‘No!’ Ralf cried, heedless of the sound of his own voice. ‘Cabal get back!’

  Suddenly, the boys found themselves doing something neither would have considered a moment before. They ran towards the shadows too. They picked up speed as the shadows retreated before them and, when they reached the gate a few seconds later, they were just in time to see the last tendrils slip back through an iridescent gash in the air by the stile that stood next to it.

  In his desperation to reach his dog, Ralf stumbled. Just before he toppled forward Cabal’s head whipped round and he sprang towards his master, teeth biting into Ralf’s coat at the elbow. At the same time, Leo grabbed Ralf’s hood and hauled him back from falling face first through the Fall. The threesome ended in a heap, at the base of the stile, as the shimmering cut fizzled smaller and smaller then winked out of existence.

  For a moment Ralf thought it was all over and he lay on his back panting. But then Cabal was moving again, back down Merle Lane the way they had come.

  Just by the stand of trees where they’d been waiting earlier they saw something. A car’s dim tail lights faded to pinpricks and the low purr of an engine receded as it moved further away. Then the sound was gone and the lights winked out as the vehicle rounded the bend. A humped shadow slipped into the deeper darkness of the woods at the side of the lane and all three, two boys and dog raced after it. They kept their footsteps light. Even Cabal, somehow, sensed the need for quiet and flew down the road on feather-soft paws.

  Reaching the point at which the figure had entered the woods, they slowed. Creeping forward they followed a rough path in the undergrowth that meandered deep into the trees. They tracked it for long minutes, their breath coming in short gasps, their eyes straining for some sign of their quarry.

  Eventually, they reached a clearing.

  Cabal ran right and left, sniffing the ground and whining. He nosed a central spot in the dim circle then padded back to Ralf with his tail between his legs.

  ‘Gone!’ Ralf gasped, bent double and clutching the stitch in his side.

  ‘Yeah,’ Leo agreed, panting. ‘One question, though,’ he looked over to Ralf with an exasperated smile. ‘Why didn’t we Shift?’

  Ralf didn’t answer but Cabal seemed to balk at the mention of the word. Something rang in Ralf’s ear, a high-pitched note that Leo did not hear. Cabal whined pitifully and his ears pricked. With a nose at Ralf’s hand he paced to the far side of the clearing and with a final look back trotted off into the woods.

  ‘Cabal!’ Ralf cried. But it was no use. His dog had gone.

  The next day dawned bright and clear and Ralf and Leo walked in to King’s Hadow in silence. They knew that something was wrong as soon as they reached the High Street. People stood in shop doorways, their faces grave and Ralf could practically feel the tension on his skin. Val was waiting for them by the church. She was in her school uniform but her tie was over her collar, her felt hat askew and her face was bloodless.

  ‘Have you heard?’ she asked urgently.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘There were about a hundred dead mackerel in Sparra’s pond this morning!’ Val hissed.

  ‘Someone dumped their catch in the pond last night?’ said Ralf. ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Val. ‘Maybe they couldn’t sell them because they were too busy with these!’

  She rummaged in the satchel hanging from her shoulder and produced a small straw doll. A crude face had been painted on it, the mouth a l
ivid red gash, and it was dressed in a miniature white coat rather like the one usually worn by Mr Hatcher.

  ‘I took this one down before Mrs Hatcher saw it, but they were all over the village this morning, hanging from trees or just left on people’s front door steps,’ she said.

  ‘It’s just a doll –’ said Leo, not sounding too concerned.

  Val raised her eyebrows and then produced an evil looking steel pin from her pocket. ‘They all had these sticking through them,’ she finished gravely. ‘I can’t believe it! I was up till midnight waiting for you to signal and I didn’t see a thing! No one could have gone down that lane without me noticing. I don’t understand it!’

  ‘That as well as the nightmare at the Sedleys’!’ Ralf exclaimed. ‘It can’t be the same person, surely? They wouldn’t have had the time, would they?’ He filled Val in on all they’d seen and heard the night before.

  ‘This is really bad, isn’t it?’ Val said to no one in particular.

  ‘How did everyone take it?’ Leo asked, pointing at the doll. ‘I mean, were they scared or is this a quaint little Hallowe’en custom in King’s Hadow?’

  ‘Leo, they were terrified!’ said Val. ‘Mr Kemp rushed round at about seven this morning taking them all down so some people didn’t see them, but enough did to cause a near panic.’

  ‘This is very dark stuff,’ said Ralf turning the doll over in his hands. ‘Who do we know in King’s Hadow who is in to Black Magic?’

  Val shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’ She frowned then gave Leo a half smile. ‘But I wouldn’t go round making any more voodoo jokes, if I were you.’

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Beyond Words

  Everyone was talking about it. Despite Gordon Kemp’s efforts to hide away the sinister dolls, it seemed that every man, woman and child in King’s Hadow not only knew about them, but had a theory as to who had done it and why. Walter Sedley’s tales of eerie night time wails added to the rumours and the village became infected with whispers and fear. The only people immune were Frank Duke, who was actually taking bets on the identity of the culprit (Ben Cheeseman had a shilling on Urk Fitch at 2-1), and Hettie Timmins, who lived in a permanent state of agitation and behaved as though she thought a bomb would fall on the village at any moment.