A Spectre in the Stones

by John Kitchen

  As night wore on, along with the voice came a procession – faces, places, the main street at Brookley falling away to the market square, the library – with books raining down from the shelves, and there was the librarian’s face and, furtively moving behind everything, watching him like a jackal, was Craig Donovan. There was Rudi, and his face morphed to that of the wild-eyed ghost, and the whispering emptiness of the Beaker man’s voice, and still there was Craig and sleep, unsettled sleep, wrestling with demons and ghosts; and Caitlin and Craig and Justin and Justin’s eyes… and…

  Morning came, breaking through his half-closed eyes and playing around his dampened eyelashes.

  He dragged himself back towards consciousness.

  Nothing in his dreams had made any sense and it all seemed to have settled in his head like sludge. Even opening his eyes was a decision too far, and thought fragments floated just beyond his reach.

  But gradually they came together.

  He stretched, and kicked the duvet to one side.

  It was Sunday.

  This afternoon Justin was coming over.

  He’d be with Rudi all day and Rudi was a great guy.

  It was all good. He could face the world.

  When he pulled back the blinds, it would have been great if there’d been a flood of sunlight, but this was Sarson Hall and there were just bleak wastelands and acres of flat, grey sky.

  He checked his travel case because, along with everything else, the packed case could have been a dream. But it had been packed. It was open at the foot of his bed with everything neatly stashed for a journey.

  Carefully he pulled the zip, sealing the lid and locking it. Then he returned it to his wardrobe and headed for the main building.

  The Sunday roster was different from Saturday’s, although the groups were the same. Their group was scheduled to load the dishwashers in the kitchen.

  He was curious about Caitlin. He wasn’t sure she’d be there and, if she was, he wondered how she’d be after her first night not facing the ghost.

  She wasn’t down when he and Rudi settled for their toast and cornflakes, but she did come in not long after – and she had changed.

  She’d showered. Her hair was still wet and hung loosely around her head – and her fringe was fluffed slightly with the dampness. It fell onto her forehead and made her face look, somehow softer.

  She sat in her usual place, well away from him and Rudi. But something of the pallor had gone. Her movements were less lethargic and Lloyd noticed she wasn’t so involved in the general spite.

  She kept looking at him too – hooded glances where she didn’t lift her head. He couldn’t read the looks. They could have been suspicious or defensive and there was an ambivalence that unsettled him.

  He knew they would have to face each other in the kitchen and he wasn’t confident about that. His head told him he must raise the subject of last night because he wanted to steer her away from the cellar again tonight – to stop her having to face the terror of the ghost. Yet something inside him made him want to shy away from her. He was unnerved by the cloaked glances. And, with her loose hair and that sheen of moisture from the shower, and with her face so fresh from sleep – he wasn’t comfortable inside his own skin any more.

  He told Rudi about what had happened – about steering Caitlin back to her room, although he didn’t mention the half-drowsy glance. He told him about the ghost’s weird symbol and the packed case.

  “That would do my head in,” Rudi said. “And you stayed there all night – with a case packed by dead spirits?”

  “Yeah, when you put it like that it’s creepy – but I didn’t think of it that way. I was just spooked because I couldn’t figure why the poltergeist packed my travel bag. I mean, is it trying to tell me something, or what?”

  He was avoiding Caitlin’s glances, but doing that made him aware of someone else who was showing an unhealthy interest in him.

  Craig Donovan was on the opposite side of the table, further down, and he was desperate to catch Lloyd’s eye. That unsettled him more than Caitlin, because no way did he want a meet with Craig Donovan.

  His best bet, he thought, was to stick with Rudi all morning. Craig wouldn’t come near him, not with Rudi around.

  At least he would be safe while they were in the kitchen. There was no danger of Craig muscling in there.

  There was a routine when they set about stacking the dishwashers. They had to fill the sink with hot water while Marion checked it out. Then they had to collect the stacked crockery from the dining room, and rinse it before they loaded it into the dishwashers.

  There were only the three of them. Martin had opted to miss breakfast again, and Caitlin was keeping her distance, shooting quick glances at Lloyd and then looking away. It was unsettling because Lloyd was so intensely aware of her hair, and the fringe, softening her face. It was disturbingly attractive and he was almost afraid to say anything to her – for fear of her reaction – and that was plain stupid. Only a few hours ago he’d been guiding her down the corridor back to her room and practically tucking her into bed… and she’d shown no hostility then. But he knew, with Caitlin, nothing could be taken for granted.

  They made several trips from the dining room, while Marion supervised every move.

  When the sinks were full and she’d dipped her hand into the water for the last time, she produced sets of rubber gloves, dumping them on the draining board, and grunting, “Put these on.” Then she added: “And keep them on when you’re loading the dishwasher.

  I don’t want your nasty germs all over the plates.”

  “The dishwasher’s meant to wash germs away, yeah? That’s what it’s for, isn’t it?” Lloyd said. “And our germs aren’t no nastier than nobody else’s.”

  “Don’t give me any backchat,” Marion snapped. “And no messing around.” Then she stalked into the dining room and she was in action almost immediately, bawling at some miscreant who was messing around under the table.

  Lloyd heard Caitlin mutter: “Stupid cow,” and he looked at her.

  “You okay?” he said.

  She was sliding plates into the sink and running a gloved hand over them to remove the larger chunks of breakfast residue and, as she looked down, her hair fell, brushing her cheek. In profile Lloyd noticed how long her eyelashes were. “Yeah, why?” she said. She didn’t look up and she didn’t stop working at the plates.

  “You slept all right?” he said.

  “Yeah.”

  He didn’t feel comfortable and she wasn’t making it easy. “You didn’t see no ghost or nothing?”

  Still she didn’t look up but she stopped scouring the plates and stared at the water. Lloyd caught his breath because it was clear she was weighing her options.

  “What you talking about – ghosts?” she said, still looking at the ripples swirling in the sink.

  “Come off it, Caitlin,” Rudi said. “You know very well what we’re talking about. We went through all that yesterday.”

  “You shut your mouth and get on with stacking them dishes, Rudi Singh,” she said. She flashed him a look and then returned her gaze to the sink.

  “There isn’t no need to talk to him like that,” said Lloyd. “It’s right what he said. You do know what we’re talking about and we’re not doing this to wind you up nor nothing. You was heading for the cellar again last night and I got you back to your room. You got to remember that.”

  She began rubbing at the plates more vigorously, and her face coloured up. “You don’t talk about that, Lloyd Lewis. Not with him around. That’s none of his business.”

  “He’s my best friend,” said Lloyd. “He isn’t going to say nothing to no one.”

  “It’s personal though.”

  “You got to trust me, man,” he said. “And you got to trust Rudi. You didn’t see no ghost last night?”

  She carried on working and shook her head. “No – not last night.”

  “Well, that’s okay. We’re dead pleased, is
n’t that right, Rudi?”

  “Yes, dead pleased,” said Rudi.

  Lloyd passed Caitlin the last of the cereal dishes. He wasn’t overjoyed at her response. She was still prickly – but she wasn’t in denial. He had to bring reality a step closer though. “You got to face up to it, Caitlin, man,” he said. “There isn’t nothing to say you won’t go sleepwalking into that cellar again tonight nor tomorrow night.”

  She took the bowls and plunged them into the water. “You trying to scare me?” she said.

  “No way. I just want you to know – I’m going to do what I done last night and, if you go for the cellar again, I’ll steer you back. If I keep watch, you got nothing to be scared of.”

  She pushed the rinsed bowls towards Rudi and then looked at Lloyd for the first time, and that snagged his breath because there was a softness and the flicker of a smile, just like he’d seen last night. “That’s okay, then,” she said. She pulled off her gloves and laid them on the table. “You can do that Lloyd Lewis. But don’t you go getting no ideas. You mess with me just once and it’ll be the last time you mess with anyone. You got that?”

  Lloyd laughed. “I just want to make sure the ghost don’t get you, that’s all.”

  “And don’t neither of you tell no one about this,” she said as she walked towards the kitchen door. “It’s private and it isn’t nobody’s business – only ours.”

  When they’d finished their chores, Lloyd followed Rudi into the television lounge. He was determined to stick with him because of Craig Donovan, but it didn’t work. Marion was there almost as soon as they emerged and she said Dave wanted to see Rudi in his office – and that meant, unless Lloyd went off to his bedroom, there was no cover from Craig.

  He was puzzled as to why Dave wanted to see Rudi, because Rudi was the one guy in Sarson Hall that wasn’t likely to get up Dave’s nose.

  Craig wasn’t in the television lounge, but Lloyd knew it was one of his favourite haunts. It would only be a matter of time so he decided his bedroom, no matter how inhospitable, was the best option.

  But it was too late. As he headed up the stairs he heard a voice over the general cacophony. “Hey – black boy.”

  He looked down. “I got a name, man,” he said. “You use it if you want to talk to me.”

  Craig lunged up the stairs. “You trying to keep out of my way or what? You was deliberately avoiding me, breakfast time.”

  “Why would I want to look at you? You aren’t that handsome.”

  “You won’t be handsome neither if you try getting smart with me.” He was right up to Lloyd now. “We got to arrange something for tomorrow.”

  Lloyd attempted to look blank. “What you mean, arrange something for tomorrow?” he said, and he saw Craig’s eyes narrow.

  “Don’t put on that innocent stuff with me, Lloyd Lewis. You got a job to do for me, and no way are you forgetting that. I got to show you the kid you’re delivering the homework to, remember?” He grabbed Lloyd by the arm and pulled him further up the stairs, leading him towards the fire door. “You got to come and find me, break time tomorrow, right?”

  “That isn’t going to be easy,” Lloyd said. “Me and Rudi, we hang out together at break times. You don’t want him to know about this homework stuff, do you?”

  “You got to lose him, because if he finds out, you’re finished. You find me, break time, and you make sure you don’t have that Indian kid in tow. If you don’t show up, I’ll smash your bones, okay?”

  It wasn’t okay. None of it was okay, but Lloyd knew Craig had the upper hand. He was stronger and he was bigger, and the guy wouldn’t have any qualms about messing him up. “If that’s what’s going to make you happy,” he said. “I’ll look you out tomorrow – but I’m not making no habit of it. You got to know that.”

  Craig stared at him. “You don’t tell me what you are or what you aren’t making no habit of,” he said. “You do what I tell you, when I tell you – if you want to live.”

  “We got to see about that,” Lloyd said. It was imperative he had the last word and he pushed past, heading downstairs so as not to give Craig the chance to answer – but he did catch a menacing snarl from the landing.

  He could have done without Craig Donovan. He wanted to focus on the ghost – and Justin. But, at least, now he’d sorted tomorrow, he was certain he wouldn’t be bothered for the rest of the day, and it wasn’t long before Rudi came out of Dave’s office.

  Martin was with him and, when they saw Lloyd, Martin’s pallid face half flinched into a smile. Rudi didn’t look so pleased though.

  “What you been up to?” Lloyd said. “You been naughty boys or what?”

  “Dave wanted to see if we was still all right having you back in our room,” said Martin, and that news made him stop dead.

  “There isn’t no way. You know that, Rudi, man. I told you.”

  Rudi shrugged. “We weren’t given any choice. You’ve got to move out of that room. Dave needs it for someone else. If we didn’t want you, he said he’d put you with Craig Donovan.”

  Martin was beginning to look confused. “Don’t you want to move back? We smell or what?”

  Lloyd shook his head. “It isn’t that, man. It’s complicated. I got to stay in the North Wing, that’s all. I’m like, sorting something out down there. Rudi knows about it. Isn’t that right, Rudi?”

  “But you don’t have any choice,” Rudi said. “And Dave said you’ve got to go and see him now. I’ll hang around till he’s seen you if you like.”

  “That would be appreciated,” Lloyd said. “I got stuff to tell you anyway. It’s stuff we got to talk to Justin about.”

  He didn’t knock. It was in his interest to get up Dave’s nose today.

  Dave was seated behind his desk and the cold blue eyes looked distinctly irritated. His chubby face simpered. “All right, Lloyd Lewis. Treat this like your own living room, why don’t you? Anyone with a modicum of decency would have knocked and waited for some kind of response.”

  Lloyd gave the Gallic shrug. “I knew you wanted to see me. Rudi said, so what was the point of knocking and hanging around for you to say ‘come in’?”

  “A knock would show respect,” Dave said and Lloyd stared at him.

  “Yeah, respect. That’s a tricky issue as far as you’re concerned.”

  He saw Dave’s mouth twist, but that was all. “I’ve been having a chat with Rudi and Martin,” he said. “Apparently – for reasons that totally escape me, they want you back in their room.”

  Lloyd shrugged again, this time making certain his hands were deep into his pockets. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s cool. It shows respect that does – but – what would I want to go back with them for?

  I mean, I got my own room now, and I like that.”

  “I expect you do,” Dave said. “But the general policy of the home is to put people together. It helps develop social skills. And, if Rudi and Martin do you the honour of requesting you back, I think you should have the good grace to accept.”

  “Grace hasn’t got nothing to do with it,” said Lloyd. “I like it where I am.”

  He wanted Dave to come out with some heated, tantrum-induced piece of malice like: “If that’s how you want it, you stay in the North Wing,” but he knew Dave wasn’t that stupid. If staying in the North Wing was what Lloyd wanted, then there was no way he was going to let him.

  “Well, leaving grace to one side, you’ve got very little choice,” Dave said. “Next week I need that room for Daryl Johnson. You can pack your things this evening and, tomorrow, you can move back with Martin and Rudi. If you don’t like that, I can always put you in with Craig Donovan. There’s space in his room.”

  “Can’t you put this Daryl Johnson in with Rudi and Martin – or you could try him with Craig Donovan. That would sort him out,” Lloyd said. But he knew he’d lost – and he also knew losing was going to give him big problems.

  Dave eased himself from his desk, which, Lloyd knew, was his pathetic way of sign
alling the cessation of battle. “Just put a sock in it, Lloyd Lewis, and get your stuff packed. You’re back with Martin and Rudi and that’s that. And any assaults on Martin and I’ll try your own remedy – see if Craig Donovan can sort you out.”

  “He’d like to try,” Lloyd said, with more feeling than he wanted to acknowledge. “But the way Craig sorts out guys wouldn’t be that great, would it? Not that you’d want to know about that, Mr Trafford, sir. You got an ostrich mentality, that’s your trouble.”

  He could see the colour spreading from Dave’s face right up to his shiny, balding head. “Why is it, Lloyd Lewis,” he snapped, “that you always manage to engender hostility – even when I’m imparting what, to any other boy, would be good news? Does this insolence come naturally, or is it the one skill you’ve managed to nurture in your tiny, puerile life?”

  “If it’s been nurtured, it’s been nurtured by people like you, man,” Lloyd said and, because he knew it really maddened Dave, he walked towards the door with his back to him and his hands plummeting the depths of his pockets. He even managed to heave his shoulders in the most phlegmatic of Gallic shrugs.

  It was a round to Dave, though. He’d messed up Lloyd’s plans, and that was another thing he’d have to talk over with Rudi and Justin. He might even have to bring Martin in on this one, because, when he was back in the main wing, he’d have to leave the bedroom every night so he could get down to Caitlin.

  Justin was around the back of North Wing that afternoon. That’s where they’d agreed to meet, and Lloyd’s mind was so full he hardly knew where to start.

  “There’s things been happening all over the place,” he said. “I seen the ghost again, and the poltergeist done stuff to my clothes and my suitcase, and me and Rudi, we’ve been up to look at Brookley Henge, and we got loads that needs talking about.”