Hiding From the Light

by Barbara Erskine

  ‘Paula has joined us tonight, ladies, because she had first-hand experience of the witch we have found in our midst. She was tricked into allowing Lyndsey Clark to look after her children and in so doing put them in terrible danger.’

  There was a slight frisson in the room. Paula felt all the eyes fixed on her. She could feel the heat rising in her face. She wasn’t sure if they blamed her or sympathised, but it was not a comfortable feeling. She gave Judith a quick glance, not sure if she was supposed to say anything. Judith had her eyes closed, the Bible now clasped across her chest.

  ‘Dear Lord, be with us here today, present at our prayer circle.’ Judith’s voice was very strong. ‘And keep us safe on this most dangerous and dark of nights.’

  Paula glanced round. Every woman there had her eyes closed. Their faces were solemn, concerned. Solid. Paula closed her own eyes.

  They prayed for about twenty minutes, Judith extemporising fluently, including prayers specifically for Paula and Alex, Sophie and James. Then she recited prayers from the old prayer book and the new, before she drew them all together with the Lord’s prayer. She had scarcely finished when she opened her eyes and scanned the room. ‘Right. What are we going to do?’

  ‘Tell the police.’ The comment came from a tall, thin wispy woman with thick glasses. ‘She should be arrested.’

  ‘They’ll never arrest her without proof,’ her neighbour put in quietly. ‘Is there any proof, Mrs West? Or is it all hearsay?’

  Paula felt her cheeks colour again. ‘I have to say Lyndsey has always been kind to my children,’ she said carefully. Why was she suddenly feeling disloyal? ‘I didn’t know anything about Lyndsey’s reputation until Judith here told me.’

  ‘You knew she was a witch,’ Judith put in sharply.

  ‘Yes, but I didn’t take it seriously.’ Paula frowned. ‘I had no idea she was into satanic ritual. None at all.’

  There was a small gasp from amongst the women seated round the room. ‘I mean, I thought it was a joke. I didn’t think there were such things as witches. Not proper ones. The moment I knew about her, I sent my husband to tell her we no longer needed her services.’

  ‘Why send your husband, Mrs West?’ The question came from a short plump woman with dark hair, dyed a shade too intense for her colouring.

  ‘Because it was convenient,’ Paula retorted. ‘I wasn’t afraid of her, if that’s what you’re implying.’

  ‘There would be no shame in it, Paula, if you were,’ put in a third woman. Paula recognised her as an assistant at the bank in the High Street. ‘We should all be afraid before Satan.’

  ‘Until we call on the Lord to fight him,’ Judith put in. ‘And that is what Paula has done. That is why she is here.’ She sat down at last, the Bible still clutched tightly to her chest. ‘I have made the first move in the Lord’s name. I told Lyndsey’s other employer what she is and he has also sacked her. Now all we need to do is see that she finds our community is not a comfortable place for her and her kind.’

  ‘That’s it. Drive her out.’ The bank assistant folded her arms smugly and there was a general murmur of approval.

  ‘That doesn’t sound very Christian,’ Paula said, troubled. ‘Shouldn’t we try to win back her soul or something?’

  Judith nodded slowly. ‘Paula is right. We should not hound Lyndsey out without giving her the chance to repent.’

  Banking executive snorted. ‘Her sort never repent. They are arrogant and ignorant.’

  ‘Lyndsey’s not ignorant,’ Paula interrupted. ‘She got in to Cambridge.’

  ‘You sound as though you are on her side – ’

  ‘I’m not taking sides,’ Paula snapped. ‘If she has done evil she must pay for it, but we must be sure. We are not medieval barbarians!’ She wondered suddenly if anyone else had noticed that there were thirteen of them in the room, and hastily pushed the thought away. These women were her new friends. Her allies. They were on her side against evil.

  ‘We will be sure before we do anything, Paula,’ Judith said smoothly. ‘We will pray.’

  ‘Are there any other witches round here, or is she the only one? Surely they come in covens, don’t they?’ A new voice spoke from the other side of the room. All the women turned towards a young red-headed girl in a tight green jumper. She looked down, abashed.

  ‘Yes.’ Paula had spoken almost without thinking. ‘I know of one other witch. She’s a friend of Lyndsey’s; in fact they are cousins. Emma Dickson. The woman who has moved into Liza’s up in Old Mistley,’ she explained to those who were looking blank. ‘She has two black cats,’ she added. ‘Or had.’ She smiled.

  There was a pause as the women processed this news.

  ‘Cats don’t necessarily denote witches these days.’ The voice of reason came from the seat next to Paula. The stout middle-aged woman with grey hair smiled at her. ‘I have three myself.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Paula shrugged. ‘I’ve fallen into the trap, haven’t I, of looking for stereotypes. Although in Emma’s case, I think it may be justified.’ Did she really believe that? She bit her lip, then she pushed away her doubt. Lyndsey and Emma were often together these days, as far as she could see. Plotting. Who knows, perhaps casting spells. Maybe out of sheer spite Lyndsey was helping Emma to seduce Alex. Maybe at this very moment they were working on a plan to snatch the children. After all, it would take two people to do that. And these women here were acting in the name of God. They would do nothing that wasn’t warranted. They would make it all come right.

  ‘You say she “had” two cats?’ another voice queried.

  Paula nodded. ‘They’ve gone. My husband told me this evening – she asked him to help her search for them. I think we can say that her familiars, if that is what they were, have been removed from the scene.’

  ‘Good.’ The banking executive spoke up again. ‘I hate cats.’ She shuddered. ‘Perhaps in that case we should suggest this woman Emma leaves as well?’

  One by one the women in the room nodded their agreement.

  Paula looked down at her hands. She was trying to hide a smile.

  Judith watched quietly. So, Emma Dickson was in the frame, too. Excellent. Mike spent altogether too much time worrying about her. She remembered that Donald James had told her Mike had been seen having coffee with Emma some time ago. At the time she hadn’t worried about it. Stupid. She had missed something there. Well, yet again she was going to have to save Mike from his all too human fallibility. She felt strangely elated. By the time he came back she would have sorted it all out. If that didn’t convince the church authorities she was the right person to select for clergy training, nothing would. She glanced round the circle again. They were winding themselves up now, the righteous indignation bubbling nicely, their hostility growing. Soon she would have to calm them down, bring them back to heel with a prayer. Tomorrow would be the time to unleash them on Lyndsey and Emma. All Saints Day. Perfect.

  86

  Alice parked the car carefully by the swan fountain and sat for a moment staring through the windscreen, watching the stream of water cascading from the swan’s beak. The whole town was bathed in the warm sweet smell from the Maltings. It was a bit like Horlicks. It was making her feel hungry and she rummaged in the glovebox in a vain attempt to find something to eat. No chocolates, just empty cigarette packets. She closed the flap with a scowl. Soon it would be dark. She shivered. Dusk at Halloween. The best time to interview a witch.

  Dragging her heavy shoulderbag with the precious cargo of camcorder and tape recorder, she slid out of the car and locked it. The street was deserted. There was no sign of anyone, even outside the pub where already a pumpkin, hollowed out and carved into a hideous face, glowed in one of the windows. She glanced up at the sign. It showed Matthew Hopkins, almost a cartoon character in his high hat. As she stared at it the sign creaked slightly in the wind.

  Taking a deep breath she hurried down the lane which led out onto the quay, then she headed towards Lyndsey’s cottage.
To her intense disappointment there were no lights on anywhere.

  Taking hold of the knocker she let it fall twice, listening as the sound reverberated through the house. Total silence.

  ‘Shit!’ She bit her lip. ‘Where is she?’ This was her chance to do something really good. Something that would make her father sit up and notice her properly.

  She frowned. Where would Lyndsey be on Halloween? Of course. How stupid. She wouldn’t be at home. She would be out with her coven doing witchy things. With a shiver of excitement, Alice turned and headed back towards the car. There were one or two places she could think of which might fit the bill and one of them was the deserted churchyard.

  She parked a good half a mile away, pulling the car up onto the verge and almost into the hedge. It was very quiet up here away from the village. She shivered violently as she zipped up her jacket and slung the canvas bag strap over her shoulder. The wind was tearing her hair back from her face as she walked carefully down the middle of the road. Like an idiot she had forgotten to bring a torch and here in the black canyon between the high rustling hedges it was especially dark.

  As she drew near to Liza’s she found her steps slowing. There were lights on in the house pouring out through uncurtained windows into the garden. She stopped by the garden gate, then she tiptoed closer, scrambled cautiously up onto the bank to peer carefully through the hedge. At first she could see nothing. She pressed more closely in amongst the scratchy twigs and leaves, pleased that the sound of the wind would hide any noises she was making, and she narrowed her eyes trying to see in at the window. Then, smiling with glee, she began to grope in her bag for the camcorder.

  87

  Emma faced Lyndsey across the kitchen table. ‘I don’t think I can do this.’

  ‘You have to. It’s the only way.’ Lyndsey had been home, taking Emma’s car, and returned an hour later with a large canvas bag. In it was her paraphernalia.

  ‘Oh, shit, no!’ Emma watched as Lyndsey brought out the knife, wand, bottle of oil, salt, incense. And then black silk robes. Emma touched them nervously. ‘Do you always have a spare?’

  Lyndsey smiled. ‘No, second best. It doesn’t matter what one wears. It’s just better to be inconspicuous.’

  ‘Inconspicuous!’ Emma spluttered. ‘What about the pointed hats? The broom sticks? Everyone else will be wearing them tonight!’

  ‘Everyone else will be playing.’ Lyndsey’s face was grim. She reached across and grabbed Emma’s wrists. ‘You have to be strong. We have to do this. Now. I’m not waiting for midnight. The tension is growing every second. It must be nipped in the bud.’ She paused, surveying Emma’s face. ‘You can feel it, can’t you?’

  Emma nodded. Her mouth was dry. She felt light-headed. ‘Can we have some coffee before we do anything else? I’m feeling so odd.’

  ‘No, you need to have your wits about you.’ Lyndsey dragged her to her feet. ‘We start with a cleansing bath, then the robe. Then we’ll go across to the churchyard.’ She gathered up the robes and headed for the door. ‘Come on, Emma!’

  Emma was still hesitating. ‘I’m not sure – ’

  Diving towards her, Lyndsey grabbed her wrist again. ‘Come on! I’m going to get you ready if I have to bath you myself.’ Her eyes were glittering with nervous energy as she pulled open the door and dragged Emma out into the hall and towards the stairs. At the top she glanced round. ‘Where’s the bathroom?’

  ‘There.’ Emma nodded towards the door.

  ‘Right. You go first. Strip. Quick bath or shower with these.’ She thrust a small sachet of dried herbs into Emma’s hand. ‘Then the robe. Naked underneath. Brush some of the herbs through your hair or wash it to make sure there is no negativity clinging to you anywhere.’ She pointed to Emma’s watch. ‘No jewellery. Take that off. And the earrings. I wear special ritual jewellery but there’s no time to cleanse and consecrate your stuff. Hurry!’ Pushing Emma into the bathroom she pulled the door closed behind her.

  Emma stood quite still. She was shaking. She dropped the silk robe onto the floor and moving to the window, she drew the curtains against the darkness outside. Almost on autopilot, she stooped and put the plug into the bath, then she turned on the taps. Untying the piece of raffia which held the sachet of herbs closed, she shook them out into the hot water and at once the air filled with a strange bitter-sweet tang. She watched the leaves and stalks swirling about for a moment, then still half in a daze she pulled off her jeans and sweater, bra and pants and, kicking them into the corner, gingerly stepped into the water. Sitting down, she slid along the bath until she was leaning right back, her legs drawn up so that she could duck under the water. Seconds later she had pulled the plug and was climbing out, flakes of leaf clinging to her wet skin as she reached for her towel. Having combed back her hair, she pulled on the black robe. The silk was soft and cold against her skin and for a moment she paused, growing used to the feel of it. She looked at the door, reluctant now to open it; afraid. It was several seconds before she plucked up courage to put her hand on the handle. She found Lyndsey waiting on the landing. Lyndsey surveyed her for a long cool moment, then she nodded. ‘Excellent. I’ll be two minutes.’

  While Lyndsey bathed, Emma wandered into her bedroom. She glanced at the bed, desperately hoping one or other of the cats would be there. There was no sign. The accustomed double cat-shaped depression on the bedspread was missing. She wandered over to the window, glancing through the curtains across the lane. She half expected to see the churchyard full of eerie lights, but there was nothing. It was dark.

  ‘Ready?’ The soft voice behind her made her jump. Turning, she surveyed Lyndsey as they stood, face to face. Lyndsey too had wet hair; hers too contained a residue of clinging herbs. Her watch, too, had gone. Around Lyndsey’s neck was a silver pentacle on a fine chain and there were silver bangles on her wrists. She gave a tense smile. ‘All set?’

  Emma nodded. ‘What if I can’t remember what to do?’

  ‘You will. If you’re in doubt about anything, follow me. I’ll initiate you first, outside in the garden, then we’ll cross the road and bind him down into the grave. It doesn’t matter whether he is actually buried there or not. That is the place I have chosen to imprison his soul forever.’

  They ran down the stairs. Lyndsey grabbed her boots. ‘We can’t go barefoot. It would be crazy. Come on. Let’s go.’ She picked up her woven bag, so like the bag Sarah had treasured as her only memento of Liza. In the larger bag in the kitchen Lyndsey found her torch. Quietly they let themselves out into the dark.

  Facing one another on the grass they stood quite still. Emma closed her eyes. She could feel herself shaking all over.

  ‘A woman should really be initiated by a man,’ Lyndsey said softly, ‘but this is an emergency. I don’t need to do the whole ceremony. And anyway, you are a witch already by birth and blood. This is just a formality.’

  Emma didn’t deny it.

  Above them a slim, cold, almost new, crescent moon sailed through a sea of silver clouds. Lyndsey dropped the bag on the grass and bent to rummage in it. When she stood up there was a red cord in her hand. Emma caught her breath. ‘I found a cord like that in the garden when I first moved in.’

  Lyndsey spun round and looked at her. ‘Where did you find it?’

  ‘The cat dug it up.’ Emma was watching her closely.

  Lyndsey laughed. ‘I might have known. What did you do with it?’

  ‘I burned it.’

  ‘So you knew what it was?’

  ‘No, I hadn’t a clue. I just sensed it was –’ She shrugged. ‘Unpleasant. What was it?’

  ‘A charm. A spell, if you like. To make you go away.’ Lyndsey laughed again. ‘I couldn’t understand why it hadn’t worked. But of course, you are a natural witch. You knew what to do, even if you didn’t know why. You, and your clever cats.’

  Emma watched as Lyndsey laid out the contents of the bag: a small black-handled knife; a box containing three bottles; a carved stick, a
small incense burner and a bell. She was breathing through her mouth, concentrating as she put down the box and set the other items on it. Then she lit the incense and four small night-lights in glass pots. ‘There,’ she murmured. ‘Ready.’ She turned to Emma. ‘Come close to me, here. Kick off your boots first – we’re just going to stand on the grass.’

  Emma did as she was told, catching her breath as she stepped into the ice-cold dew.

  ‘I’m going to cast the circle.’ Lyndsey had the knife in her hand again. ‘We always work in a circle.’

  Holding the knife high, she seemed to be offering it up towards the heavens, then she dropped her arm, pointing the tip of the blade at the grass about four feet away from them. Slowly she turned, her concentration intense, and before Emma’s eyes a strangely flickering light appeared in the darkness, streaming from the knife, depicting a circle on the grass around them.

  ‘Yes.’ Lyndsey completed the circle and laid the knife on the box which served as her altar. Oblivious to everything but the circle around them, she picked up each candle in turn and placed them at the four quarters. Then she raised her arms. ‘Hail, guardians of the east. Protect us and bless this circle. Hail guardians of the south, hail guardians of the west, hail guardians of the north …’

  Emma held her breath.

  Lyndsey stooped and picked up one of the small flasks. Pulling out the stopper, she passed the bottle three times through the smoke of the incense, then she turned back to Emma. ‘Take off your robe.’

  Emma took a step back. ‘Do I have to?’

  ‘Do it, Emma.’ Emma wasn’t sure if the voice came from Lyndsey or from the woman inside her head. Slowly she raised her hands to the fastening at the neck of the robe, opened it, pulled it apart and let it slide from her shoulders. Lyndsey tipped the flask onto her fingers.