Hiding From the Light

by Barbara Erskine

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘She shouldn’t spread vicious gossip like that. It’s very wrong. And dangerous.’

  ‘That’s what I thought.’

  ‘It’s buying into this whole witch thing.’ Emma looked thoughtful. ‘You should talk to Mike.’ She stared down into her coffee. ‘He seems a very genuine man.’ She paused.

  ‘Can I hear a but coming?’ Alex asked.

  She shrugged. ‘I can’t make up my mind about him. I like him a lot.’ She stopped again, obviously surprised at herself. ‘But at the same time he makes me cross.’

  ‘A paradox.’ He grinned. ‘Perhaps you’re just cross because he’s a vicar. Waste of a good man.’

  She laughed. ‘You could be right at that. But he’s not gay.’

  ‘No chance. Word is, he was engaged. I’m not sure, but I think the church got between him and his fiancée so when he first came here he was a bit lonely. But in spite of that, so far he’s managed to escape all female clutches.’

  ‘Perhaps that’s why there’s this strange antagonism between us,’ she said slowly. ‘As I said, he makes me feel cross and uncomfortable when we see each other. I can’t think why. And when he sees me coming, I get the impression he looks dead scared!’ And sometimes dangerous.

  ‘Either he fancies you rotten, or he thinks you’re one of the witchy folk.’ Alex gave a grim smile. ‘Perhaps it’s both! That would explain it. He sees you as temptation and he suspects you bat for the Devil’s team!’

  ‘Alex!’ She was indignant.

  ‘Sorry. OK, let’s get back to the problem in hand. Paula and Lyn. What shall I do?’

  ‘You can’t force Paula to go on letting Lyn look after your children, Alex. Not if she feels that strongly about it.’

  ‘So, I’d better go down and tell Lyn the bad news.’

  ‘And warn her about the gossip this woman is spreading about her. That is really scary.’ She shook her head thoughtfully. ‘The funny thing is that I’m beginning to like Lyndsey. She’s odd and different and takes no prisoners but there is something very likeable about her. I’d hate her to be hurt.’

  ‘She said much the same about you, strangely enough. She thinks you’re in some sort of danger.’

  Emma shrugged. ‘She told me.’

  ‘Do you know why?’

  ‘Something to do with my nightmares and Liza’s ghosts.’ The smile did not quite reach her eyes as she looked away from him towards the window. He followed her gaze. She had potted up a whole lot of small herb plants and put them along the window sill, using some of the old handmade pots she had found in the barn. They looked lovely and he could smell the aromatic scents from where he was sitting.

  ‘Perhaps that is something you should talk to Mike about. If you two are still talking,’ he said at last.

  ‘I already have.’ She shrugged. ‘Yes, we’re still talking. The trouble is, I’m afraid it just confirmed his opinion of me. Mad, probably bad, and dangerous to know!’

  67

  When Mike opened the door to Paula at eight a.m. that morning, he was unshaven and haggard. ‘I wasn’t expecting anyone this early,’ he apologised as he led her into his study. ‘Please, sit down.’ He gestured her towards the armchair and went over to his desk. She was clearly dressed for the office. Charcoal suit, blue blouse, immaculate tights and shoes, discreet earrings.

  ‘I had a long talk with Judith Sadler last night.’ Paula wasted no time. She briskly relayed the gist of the conversation and what had happened at home afterwards. ‘So, what are you going to do?’

  Mike groaned inwardly. He did not need this. Not on top of the appalling night he had just experienced. ‘Judith is a very sincere woman, Paula. But she can be less than tactful at times.’

  ‘I mean, what are you going to do about Lyndsey? If this is true she can’t be allowed to go on living amongst decent people!’

  ‘If it is true. Which I very much doubt.’ Mike sighed. ‘As I said, Judith is very sincere but her zeal can sometimes be a bit overpowering. I’m afraid I agree with your husband. At worst Lyndsey is worshipping pagan gods in her own way. Bad enough from a Christian viewpoint, I agree, but under no circumstances do I suspect her of child abuse or performing satanic rituals. I shall speak to Judith. She has no business even thinking such things, never mind spreading gossip about them. That is unforgivable.’

  Paula frowned. ‘I don’t think you’re taking this seriously enough.’

  ‘I assure you, I am taking it very seriously indeed.’

  Listen to the woman. She is a sincere Christian. Do as she says and send to arrest the witch!

  Mike felt the sweat break out on his forehead. He wiped it with the back of his hand. ‘If that’s all, Paula, forgive me, but I have rather a full diary this morning.’

  She stood up. ‘I think this should go further. If you’re not going to do anything, I shall speak to the bishop.’

  ‘That’s your prerogative.’ Mike stood up too. ‘But I beg you, don’t be hasty. These things so easily get out of hand.’

  ‘They are already out of hand!’ Paula flashed back. ‘The whole point is to make sure things get no worse. To stop the damage. To put it right. To get her out of your parish!’

  He followed her to the front door. ‘I shall consult my colleagues about this, I assure you, and I shall speak to Judith and to Lyndsey herself if she will allow me to. Please, let it rest there for the time being.’ He held out his hand as a way of finishing the conversation. She shook it firmly and turned away, but the set of her lips and the angry crunch of her footsteps on the gravel as she walked over to her car did not reassure him. She was not going to leave it there, that was obvious.

  He closed the door behind her with a sigh and leaned against it, his eyes closed. His head was thudding like a steam hammer. His eyes felt as though they had been abraded with sandpaper and he was so tired he wondered if he would fall asleep where he stood.

  The doctor listened sympathetically. ‘Just a bad habit, you say? The sleepless nights, bad dreams …’

  This was the fifth person this week. He frowned. No doubt the rector too would be reluctant to tell him what the dreams were about. Insomnia was probably one of the most common complaints for which he treated people, but to dread going to sleep. To fight sleep. Then to ask for pills to bring a sleep too deep for dreams. That was unusual.

  ‘The pills won’t necessarily stop the dreams. Nightmares are in all probability the result of some deep anxiety. An unresolved problem.’ James Good cocked an eyebrow at his patient. ‘You know that as well as I do, Mike. Anxieties need to be brought out into the open.’

  Not this one, mate. Mike nodded, keeping his reply to himself.

  ‘And a change of scene might help. I know how busy you chaps are. No time for yourselves. Any chance of going away for a few days to break the pattern?’ He should have suggested that to all the others, too. He sighed. What on earth was happening? The whole of Manningtree seemed to be restless. Uncomfortable.

  Wearily, Mike stood up. ‘I might just be able to grab a couple of days. I’ll see what I can do. That does sound like good advice.’ Oh, how good. To get out of the town and maybe – witches can’t cross water? – go and see Tony over the river, in Suffolk.

  But before that, see Lyndsey Clark.

  The windows in her cottage were open. He stood for a moment on the quay staring at it, trying to feel the atmosphere, calming himself, praying before he walked up to the door and knocked. The door swung open.

  Peering inside, he found himself looking straight into the small front room. Facing north, it was dark, but it was far from gloomy. He noted flowers, the crystals sparkling on the hearth, the coloured rugs. He had to admit it did not feel evil in any way he expected.

  Christ be with me, Christ within me.

  He knocked again, louder this time. ‘Miss Clark? Lyndsey?’

  Silence.

  But something had happened to the atmosphere. He felt it tense. It was as though the whole house wer
e listening.

  He stepped back a little. ‘Lyndsey?’ He could feel the emptiness now. She wasn’t there. There was no point in waiting.

  ‘What you doing here, then, Rector?’ The voice behind him made him jump out of his skin.

  ‘Bill!’

  ‘Young Lyndsey not there?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You thought about what I said?’

  Mike nodded.

  ‘You said your prayers up at Spindles?’

  ‘I’m afraid I haven’t had time.’

  Bill shook his head ruefully. ‘You need to make time for that one, Rector. Can’t you feel it?’

  Mike gave a weary shrug. ‘Yes, I can feel it, Bill. There is something.’

  ‘And it’s getting worse by the day. The whole town is beginning to suffer. It’s getting tense. Waiting. The bad times are coming in again. There’s been another murder, you know. Up on the Seaview estate. That’s the second. They say it’s drugs, but it’s not just that. You want to do something about it, Rector, before November Eve.’

  ‘Before –?’ Mike fell silent. ‘I’m doing this all wrong, aren’t I, Bill? I’ve been trained to go by the book.’

  ‘Books has their place.’ They had begun walking down the quay. Stopping at its edge, both men stared out across the river. Sunlight was reflecting off the water, leaving dazzling patches of ripples. The mist had gone for the time being. ‘But there are things that have to be done. The old folk don’t care any more. The young don’t know how. So, like I said before, I reckon it’s up to you and me, Rector. You need to bless the boundaries, bless the site. Clear out the darkness. Then do it for the whole town as well and it will spread over the whole peninsula. There’s old evil lurking here.’ A flight of dunlin danced over the top of the water, wheeling and swooping in the cold, clear wind.

  Mike felt a shiver tiptoe across his skin. ‘And you think that, far from being behind all this, Lyndsey is working to fight it too?’

  ‘I reckon. But she doesn’t know how any more than you do, Rector!’ He chuckled.

  To his astonishment Mike heard himself asking, ‘Couldn’t you do it, Bill?’

  Bill shrugged. ‘I can do some. But this is strong stuff. It needs the church.’

  ‘Would you come with me? Summon the Ward? Show me where I need to pray?’

  Slowly, Bill nodded. ‘I reckon that would be best. You and I need to stand together on November Eve, Rector. And perhaps young Lyndsey, too. That’s when the trouble will be worst. Always is. We’ll pray today. And we’ll stand shoulder to shoulder with the Ward come the dark.’

  68

  Emma was climbing back into her car when Mike turned in at the rectory gate. She waited for him by the front door. ‘I had just given up. I’m sorry, this is probably a bad time to come and see you.’

  ‘Not at all.’ He was reaching into his pocket for the keys. ‘Come in.’

  She glanced at him as he unlocked the door. He looked very tired and he did not seem all that pleased to see her. Puzzled and not a little subdued but not surprised by his reaction to the sight of her, she followed him inside. ‘I needed to talk to you.’ Just in case he thought it was a social call.

  ‘Fine.’ He led the way into his study. Flooded by the morning sunlight, it was warm and bright.

  She felt suddenly nervous. ‘You said you’d be there if I needed you.’

  ‘And I meant it.’

  The whore is trying to talk her way into your heart, my friend.

  The sudden voice in his head made Mike jump. ‘Shit!’

  Emma stared at him, shocked and surprised. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sorry!’ There at last was the boyish grin which she liked so much, the anguished Puritan side to him gone. ‘A touch of migraine.’ He paused, closing his eyes to apologise silently for the lie. ‘I took your advice. I’ve just been up to get some pills from the doc.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you weren’t well. Listen, you don’t need me here.’ She backed towards the door. ‘We can always talk another time – ’

  ‘No, Emma, don’t go.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Sit down.’

  She sat.

  ‘Now, please. Tell me.’

  ‘Partly it’s Lyndsey.’

  ‘Ah!’ He sighed. ‘So much these days seems to come back to Lyndsey. Whom I have not yet met!’

  Emma gave a wry smile. ‘Nor will you if she sees you first! The thing is, there is more to it all than Lyndsey.’ She took another breath, as though she were finding it difficult to breathe. ‘I got my sleeping pills the other day because, as I said, I couldn’t sleep. That’s not quite the whole truth. The thing is, when I do sleep, as I think I told you, I have terrible nightmares. I thought the pills might help, make me sleep more deeply or something, but they don’t. The dreams, the horrors, are still there. Now I don’t dare take the pills. I don’t want to sleep. Not ever again.’ She looked down at her hands and he suspected it was so that he would not see that her eyes were full of tears.

  He didn’t say anything immediately. When she glanced up she saw he was frowning. ‘The nightmares are horrible – frightening,’ she went on hesitantly, forcing herself to continue. ‘It’s the house. Lyndsey. All of it. I keep dreaming about the old lady who lived there.’

  ‘Liza.’ Mike said the word almost to himself and she was astonished to see a spasm of something like pain cross his face.

  ‘Yes, poor Liza.’

  He looked up at her. ‘I know you don’t come to church, Emma, but do you pray?’

  She was taken aback by the question. ‘I suppose we all pray sometimes, even if we don’t believe there’s anyone there.’

  ‘It’s a step in the right direction if you can pretend.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘It’s worth keeping your options open. Words are powerful, Emma. Prayer, even if you think it’s superstitious nonsense, works.’

  The woman is a witch. Ask her, rather, if she believes in the Devil!

  Mike put his hand to his head. He went on, with an effort: ‘There is a prayer one can use, if you like. I’ll write it out for you. St Patrick’s breastplate. Recite it before you go to bed, like a mantra. Picture the love of Christ around you. You may not believe in him, but luckily he does believe in you.’ A ghost of the boyish grin crossed his face.

  ‘And you think it will work?’ She eyed him quizzically.

  ‘It’ll work.’

  ‘Does it work for you?’

  He looked up to find her shrewd gaze fixed on his face.

  ‘It works, Emma.’

  ‘It just seems too easy. Say a prayer and everything will be all right. A bit simplistic. Sorry.’

  ‘It’s a start.’

  ‘And do I keep taking the tablets as well?’

  Again the smile. ‘Ah, now that is not my department!’

  ‘But dreams are?’

  ‘Bad dreams are.’ He glanced away from her. ‘Can you tell me about them?’

  She hesitated. ‘I’ve told you. Witches. What happened to them.’ She bit her lip.

  Mike closed his eyes. Suddenly he couldn’t look at her any longer.

  ‘It’s terrible, Mike. And they won’t go away. It’s as if –’ She paused. ‘It’s as if they are trying to tell me something. Make me do something. And I don’t know what it is …’ Her voice trailed into silence.

  He walked over to the window. Were those wisps of mist drifting through the trees near the gate, or had someone lit a bonfire? He pushed the window open and the autumnal smell of burning leaves reached his nostrils.

  Beware, my friend. The whore is hoping to seduce you.

  Rubbing his face hard with the palms of his hands, he pulled the window shut with a bang.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mike. I expect there are things you need to do.’ She was looking uncomfortable. ‘I’ve taken up enough of your time.’

  ‘I wish I could help more.’ He risked a glance. ‘We are the best interpreters of our own dreams because we understand the language of our own so
uls. Perhaps you should try and translate the dream in terms of problems in your life at the moment.’

  ‘No, Mike!’ She headed for the door. ‘Thank you, but I don’t need Freud or Jung or any psycho-babble to interpret these dreams. They are real.’

  Lyndsey was waiting for her at Liza’s, sitting on the wall of the terrace with Max looking smug on her knee.

  ‘You’ve been to see the rector. After all I said!’

  Emma was astonished. ‘How on earth did you know?’

  ‘I know things.’ Lyndsey stood up after carefully decanting a reluctant Max onto the wall next to her. ‘You must not go near him.’

  ‘Now, look – ’

  ‘Listen.’ Lyndsey grabbed her wrist. ‘He is in league with Hopkins.’

  Emma gaped at her for a few seconds. ‘Lyndsey, you are out of your mind!’

  ‘No, I’m not. He’s being overshadowed.’ Letting go of her, Lyndsey turned away and thumped her hands together in frustration. ‘Oh, why will no one believe me! I can see him. See him, Emma! Hopkins! He has got inside the rector’s head. He is trying to make the rector do things for him. Listen.’ She spun round to face Emma again. ‘You didn’t tell him anything?’

  ‘I don’t know what this great secret is that you are afraid I am going to tell him! I told him I was having bad dreams. About Liza.’ Emma’s hand closed around the small card in her pocket on which Mike had copied his prayer. It was one she vaguely remembered from her childhood. They must have used it at school.

  She met Lyndsey’s gaze and then turned away, wondering suddenly if Alex had told her yet that she would no longer be allowed near his children. She suspected not.

  Changing her mind about going into the house, she stepped away from the door. ‘Do you fancy a walk? I’ve got a bit of a headache and I’d love some fresh air.’

  Lyndsey shrugged. ‘OK, if you want.’

  They set off up the lane and then cut through the hedge following a footpath along the edge of the field. Beside them the hawthorn and wild rose bushes were heavy with scarlet berries interspersed with the juicy black fruits of bramble and dogwood. Every few steps they took disturbed the birds feeding greedily in amongst branches still green with leaves, only slowly now crisping and turning to autumn colour. Already the wind had begun to strip them from the trees to lie flabby and dying on the path at their feet. Torn cloud raced across the sky, trailing shadows across the newly ploughed furrows.