The Father's House

by Larche Davies

  As soon as they reached South Hill they slowed to a sedate walk down the hill towards the junction. The headmaster was just coming down the school steps on the other side of the road as they passed. He glanced over at them, but showed no sign of recognition. Lucy watched him waddle round to the side of the building where he kept his car. He was probably going home for a really big tea and a nap, she thought.

  Once in the High Street they blended into the crowd, tagging along behind pushchairs and toddlers whenever they could. The most nerve-wracking bit was walking between the two sets of big bay windows that stared at them from Drax House and Copse House. Lucy tried to assume a confident and purposeful air, as though she were on her way to take a message to her grandmother, or some such thing. She briefly wondered if she had a grandmother somewhere in the world. When they reached the side road on the left just past Drax House, she heaved a sigh of relief. There was no-one in sight. They found the opening into the woodland three hundred yards up, and disappeared inside.

  Almost immediately Lucy was struck by doubt. There was no real reason to suppose that David was in the Drax cells. It was only panic that had made her think he was. He might be living comfortably in the home of a kind foster mother at this very moment. As for poor Dorothy, it was unlikely the Holy Leaders would have kept her there for long once the police had caught whoever it was on the common. Lucy tried not to visualise the sickening consequences if she and Paul were too late.

  In the woods Paul held tightly onto her hand, and looked around him at the trees and the undergrowth with eyes wide open.

  “Where’s the gingerbread house?” he whispered.

  “It’s alright,” said Lucy. “There’s no gingerbread house here. You’re safe with me.” She tried to sound confident, but her voice shook slightly.

  They approached the back of Drax House through the trees and paused when they reached the edge of the wood. To the left, among the brambles and stinging nettles, she could just see part of an iron-barred grating set into the ground. Beyond it there were more brambles, and several yards further on was the high wooden fence to the back garden.

  The fence was so high that it seemed unlikely to Lucy that anyone in the house would see them approaching, especially if they crouched very low. She was not sure whether to leave Paul where he was and to go on her own to the grating, or to take him with her.

  “Will you wait here while I go into those prickly bushes?” she asked him. “I’ll be very quick.”

  He clung even harder onto her hand.

  “I like prickly bushes,” he insisted.

  They crept forward quietly, trying to trample down the worst of the prickles. By the time they reached the grating Paul’s borrowed tights above the suede boots were full of snags and holes. Lying on their stomachs they looked down into a steep passageway that disappeared into darkness in the direction of Drax House. They put their ears to the metal bars. There wasn’t a sound. Lucy whispered, “Dorothy? David?” down into the void, but there was no reply. Paul put his face onto the bars and started to hum. Lucy called again as loudly as she dared, but no-one called back.

  The grating was chained. Lucy reached through the bars, and pulled a heavy piece of chain and a large padlock towards her. It was different from the padlock on David’s bike. There were six little wheels with numbers on it, and she guessed that they were for the code. She pulled Paul’s drawing out of her pocket and studied the numbers on the other side. Closing her eyes she almost said a prayer to the Magnifico, but stopped herself just in time. She turned the little wheels until the numbers matched those on her piece of paper and waited for the hoop to jump up. Nothing happened. She felt sick with disappointment.

  “Let me see,” said Paul, reaching for the padlock. She passed it over to him, too dejected to think what to do next. Paul turned it over in his hand. It was heavy, and he dropped it back onto the metal bars with a clang.

  “Shush!” whispered Lucy hoarsely. “They’ll hear us in the house. Come on. Let’s go back.”

  As she spoke the padlock gave a little click. She picked it up and the metal hoop swung round. They both looked at in disbelief.

  “It’s worked. You’ve done it!”

  When they’d recovered from their astonishment Lucy tugged at the grating. She gave a little groan. “Now we’ve got to try to lift this thing.”

  It took them a while to unwind the chain because it was long and heavy and had been twisted round the rods of the grating several times. As soon as they had managed to get it all out onto the ground they started pulling at the rods, but the edges of the grating were blocked up with mud washed in by yesterday’s rain, and it wouldn’t budge. Lucy took the screwdriver and awl out of the canvas bag. She handed the awl to Paul.

  “Poke the earth out along the edges with this. And be careful. Don’t poke yourself with it,” she said, starting to dig out the mud with the screwdriver.

  The two of them scratched and poked until the rim was clear. Lucy grabbed the grating again and pulled upwards. It moved slightly. It was a lot bigger than the grating over the coal hole in the father’s cellar, and much heavier. She found a thick piece of wood and handed it to Paul.

  “When I lift the metal you must try and push this under it, just here, so I can get a grip,” she said. “But you mustn’t push your fingers under with it.”

  Paul stood poised ready for action. Lucy grabbed the outer bars and pulled up with all her strength.

  “Quick! Now!” she gasped, and Paul shoved the wood between the grating and the rim.

  “Good boy,” panted Lucy. “Well done.”

  Bit by bit they built up the leverage with some larger pieces of wood and a couple of logs they found among the trees, until Lucy was able to give one gigantic pull upwards and the grating stood upright on its hinges. She pushed it backwards, and the entrance to the passage was fully open.

  “Phew!” she puffed, straightening her back and shaking her arms. “Thank goodness for that. Now we must hurry. That took absolutely ages!”

  Father Arthur’s bed and breakfast was comfortable. He’d had a good lie-in followed by a hearty meal of bacon and eggs, toast, and coffee. The landlady had served him, and he’d given her his smile. He heard her whisper, “…gives me the creeps,” when she went back into her kitchen. A couple of elderly residents were seated quietly at the window table, and he wondered which one she was talking about.

  It was an overcast, miserable day and he didn’t intend leaving the house until late afternoon. The woods behind Drax House would be dark and gloomy and he would be able to wait hidden in the bushes until the light had faded enough for him to start prowling. The September evenings were still long, but dusk would fall early on a dismal day like this.

  He sat in the residents’ lounge, and watched television. There was no rush. On the local news there was something about Claudia’s abduction, but nothing about Maria or the Holy Cause. It looked as though neither she nor the man who had been caught on the common had talked. At five o’clock he had a cup of tea and told the landlady he’d be back later, and left the house. Within half an hour he was in the side road beyond Drax House. He checked that there was no-one to see him, and then he turned sharply left into the woods.

  Before finding himself a good place to hide in comfort he decided to have a quick look at the back of Drax House to see if there was any sign of Thomas. He made his way through the undergrowth towards the fence. The brambles had already been trampled down to make a path, and he guessed that someone had passed this way in the last few days, presumably fetching a sinner for disposal. He moved cautiously because he had no wish to meet any of Drax’s henchmen. As he drew nearer the fence he could see that the grating to the disposal passageway was open. He realised with surprise that they must be about to bring someone out. That was not normally done while it was still daylight – it was too big a risk.

  Taking the torch out of the canvas bag Lucy shone it onto stone stairs that led down into the darkness. She lowered herself
into the hole and Paul scrambled after her. There were ten steps. They were a good width and were not worn or sloping. It would not be difficult, thought Lucy, for a big man to carry up a body for disposal. The passageway was about seven foot high. There were stone slabs on the floor, and the walls and ceiling were lined with timber. Lucy was surprised at how clean it was. She had expected something like the coal cellar in the father’s house.

  She held tightly on to Paul’s hand and, gathering confidence, they moved silently along the passage following the light from the torch. Every now and then alcoves had been built into the walls, some with hooks holding what looked like dark cloaks, and others with shelves for coils of rope, and torches, and handcuffs, and rolled-up blankets or sleeping bags.

  They came to a slight bend and then a fork in the passageway. They took the right-hand fork and, almost immediately, a glimmer of light appeared several yards ahead. Lucy switched off the torch as they tiptoed towards the light. It filtered through a grille in a door at the end of the passage. Lucy had to stand on tiptoe to peep in. Paul pulled at her leg whining softly, “Let me see, let me see.” There was nothing to see, just a small dimly lit room with a table and chair, and a dark bundle of something on a bed in the furthest corner. Lucy picked Paul up with difficulty, and he pressed his face to the bars.

  “It’s a lady,” he said.

  Lucy dropped him with a thump.

  Dorothy lay on the bed, a heap of black clothes. It was all her fault. If she hadn’t run away David would never have been in the cell next door. He’d be having a laugh with Matthew and planning some stupid joke. She wondered what the time was. If it was evening they’d be up on the common with their bikes, showing off to the girls, with their whole lives in front of them. She’d know when it was evening because the kitchen aunts would come with yet another unwanted meal, like a sort of clock. Her ears strained for footsteps, but there was nothing.

  Suddenly she heard whispering and a soft thump. It didn’t come from the direction of Drax House.

  Dorothy’s heart jumped into her mouth and she sat up. There were people in the disposal passageway. So they’d come for her at last. Had they come for David too? She crawled off the bed and stood up shakily, facing the passageway. Then she pulled herself up, put her shoulders back and held her head up straight. “Be proud,” she said to herself.

  Lucy peered through the grille again and, sure enough, the dark bundle in the corner had stood up and was staring towards her, its face a ghastly white.

  “Dorothy!” she whispered through the bars. “It’s alright. It’s Lucy – and Paul.” She started burrowing in the canvas bag. “I’ve got a screwdriver and something pointy to try and break open the lock.”

  “I think there’s a key.” Dorothy’s voice shook. “Look! Over there behind you.”

  The torch lit up an alcove about three feet behind Lucy, well out of reach of the cell door.

  “That’s it. On that hook just above that pile of handcuffs.”

  Lucy grabbed the key and with shaking hands pushed it in the lock. Nothing happened.

  “Let me try,” said Dorothy urgently, pushing her hand through the grille and snatching the key.

  She pushed and pulled at the door. Suddenly it flew open, and she leaped out into the passageway.

  “David’s in the next cell! How can we get at him?”

  “There was a fork in the passageway. He’s probably up there. Quick! We’ll have to go back. I know where it is.” Lucy gave her a push. “You run! Take Paul and just keep going straight. I’ll get David.”

  But Paul had already entered the cell and was inspecting it. A single light bulb dangled over the table, and the corners of the room were dark. There were no interesting-looking books or magazines, or drawing paper. He climbed onto the bed and jumped up and down.

  Lucy followed him in and grabbed him. “Shush!” she hissed. “We’ve got to hurry. You can’t play now.”

  As she spoke they heard footsteps approaching down the corridor from the direction of Drax House.

  “Someone’s coming!” Lucy called quietly to Dorothy. “Quick! Come back in and look as though nothing’s happened. Paul, hurry! Get under the bed.”

  They shut the door to the passageway swiftly and silently, and Paul and Lucy disappeared under the bed. Dorothy threw herself on top of it, dissolving once more into a bundle of black cloth.

  A key turned in the lock and two kitchen aunts appeared in the doorway. One placed a tray on the table. The other remained firmly on the threshold, ready to pounce at the slightest sign of movement. Dorothy lay languishing in a heap on the bed. Lucy could just see the aunts’ feet. Good, strong, sensible shoes. Paul too could see the shoes from his corner under the bed. They reminded him of Aunt Sarah. He started to hum very quietly. Lucy’s heart froze. Then he began his chant.

  “I can see you. I can hear you.” His voice rose in a crescendo. “I can watch your every action.”

  The aunts stood stock still. They looked at Dorothy who lay silent and expressionless on the bed. The chant was repeated, louder and louder, and then broke into a wail. Dorothy’s lips didn’t move. With a look of absolute terror on their faces the aunts screamed and ran. They left the door wide open with the key still in the lock and another key dangling from it. Lucy scrambled out, ran to the door and pulled out both keys. Dorothy’s eyes were tight shut. She couldn’t move.

  “Come on!” said Lucy, shaking her. “Get up. Look! There are two keys. One might be David’s. Quick! Before they come back.”

  She hauled Paul out from under the bed.

  “You sang that beautifully,” she said, “but we never want to hear it again.”

  Dorothy gathered her wits. She leaped to her feet and dashed out to the lobby.

  “David!” she called with her eye to the peephole in the door of the next cell.

  Lucy’s hands were shaking so hard she nearly dropped the keys. The second one worked. Dorothy dragged David out by his sleeve and pushed him into her own cell. Lucy locked the door from the inside and they dashed across into the passageway, their hearts thumping and their ears buzzing.

  Keeping his huge frame as low to the ground as he could, Father Arthur approached the passageway and listened. He knew it well because in his youth he had often assisted in carrying the sinners out, handcuffed beneath dark cloaks or wrapped in blankets, with balaclavas hiding the gags over their mouths. Sometimes they had been sedated with syringes and pushed into sleeping bags and thrown over powerful shoulders. Big strong men like himself were expected to volunteer for the task of bringing them out. He had enjoyed the undercover adventure of it all, and was briefly envious of the strong young men who had taken over from him.

  Leaning down past the grating he could hear no sign of movement. He quietly descended the stone stairs and, keeping one hand on the wall to his left, he moved carefully along, ready to back into one of the many alcoves at the first sign of activity. He rounded the bend just before the path forked and thought he could hear sounds coming from the right.

  Torchlight wavered in the distance and there was a rustle of whispering voices. He moved a little nearer and stopped again to listen. The whispering grew louder. It sounded like children’s voices. So it wasn’t a disposal after all. It was children, children playing in the woods no doubt, whose adventures had taken them into forbidden territory. It was a pity because he had nothing against children as long as they weren’t his responsibility and didn’t cost him anything, but they would have to be stopped before they talked to their parents or to half the neighbourhood. The last thing the Holy Leaders would want would be children playing in the disposal passageway.

  He drew himself back into a deep alcove. There was a shelf piled with coils of rope and blankets at shoulder level, so he had to stoop, and he knocked his head against a row of hooks as he settled himself in. Muttering a swear word followed by a hasty prayer, he felt around in the darkness and pulled a big black cloak over himself, and waited.

  With trem
bling fingers Dorothy hurriedly locked the cell door from the outside. Lucy put the keys in her canvas bag, grabbed Paul’s hand, and shone the torch down the passage. Then they ran.

  Lucy and Paul were ahead, with David immediately behind. Dorothy came last, but she was tall and had no problem seeing the torchlight over the heads in front of her. It was impossible for any of the older ones to run very fast because of Paul, and they could have screamed with the slowness of it.

  “You go first,” said Lucy, pulling aside to let the others pass. “We’re holding you up.”

  “No, go on, quick!” David pushed them on. The blood was pounding in their ears. If the disposal officers reached the passageway entrance from the outside before they did, they would be trapped from both directions – ahead and behind.

  They ran on. Suddenly Lucy found herself flat on the floor, pinned to the ground. She had let go of Paul’s hand and the torch had gone flying. It flickered and went out. For a few seconds the passage was pitch dark, and then the torch flickered on again. She could see Paul pressed up against the wall to her left, a look of astonishment on his face. Her immediate thought was that his fake fur coat would have softened any blow, and then gasping and grunting noises told her that David was struggling with someone just behind her.

  She screwed her head sideways to see that an enormous foot was pressed into the small of her back. David was trying to shout Run! Run! but his voice came out in a strangled cry. His arm was held by a massive hand in a grip like a vice. It belonged to a monster with a shining bald head who, at that moment, was twisting round and stretching with his free arm to reach a coil of cord from a shelf in the wall. With the foot firmly on the middle of her back Lucy was unable to move. The monster pulled David round and bent down to tie his wrists behind his back. As he did so a sharp set of teeth sank into his ankle. He cursed and shook Paul off, trying to give him a good kick as he went. Paul nipped neatly out of his way.