Variations on a Haunting Theme

by Alan Millard

  ‘Come in dear,’ she said in a croaky voice with the faintest hint of a Russian accent. ‘Bring your friend with you. Did you remember the book?’

  ‘I did,’ said Tom holding up the book of runes.

  ‘Well done dear. Put it back where it came from. What did you make of it?’

  ‘Complicated,’ said Tom easing his way to the bookcase and squeezing it into a space on the topmost shelf, ‘complicated but fascinating.’ The bookcase took up the whole of one wall and was crammed full of esoteric volumes.

  It was ten o’clock when they left. Mrs. Kandinsky had been keen to impart her knowledge and Emma’s head was reeling with information on Tarot cards, I Ching, astrology, runes and a host other essential aides to the understanding of life and the different directions a person could take. But most of the time was spent on Clairvoyance, Mrs. Kandinsky’s special gift which revealed not only the present but also the future. She asked if Emma would like to know what her future held. Emma was tempted but declined the offer.

  ‘What did you think?’ asked Tom as they stood at the gate.

  ‘Different,’ said Emma,

  ‘She is,’ he agreed. ‘Well you’d better be off. It’s late.’ Emma hoped he’d offer to take her home but he didn’t.

  On the following night Tom was back with his neighbour but now without Emma. His mother had received a message from Mrs. Kandinsky requesting an urgent meeting with Tom which she’d passed on.

  ‘Come in Tom,’ his neighbour said as he once again forced his way in through the door. ‘I’ve something important to tell you.’ She seemed anxious and agitated.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘If only I’d made a mistake and misread the signs but I’ve checked and rechecked all of the charts. I’ve gone over the date a hundred times but the answer is always the same. Everything points to February the twenty ninth. There’s no mistake.’

  ‘That’s next year, a leap year,’ said Tom. He was worried wondering if she’d foreseen the day of her death or something equally dreadful. ‘What did you see?’

  ‘Only the date until...’ She took a breath. ‘Only the date and knowledge of something cataclysmic happening that almost nobody will escape.’

  ‘Did you see what would happen?’

  ‘Yes. In a trance after I’d checked the charts.’ She was too distressed to describe what she’d seen.

  Tom knew not to press her. She’d tell him all in her own good time. He changed tact. ‘You said almost nobody will escape. What did you mean by almost?’

  ‘I meant that only you Tom and anybody you choose to be with you will survive. I also saw the place where you’ll have to be.’

  She told him all she’d seen and where he must go to escape. She described the cave exactly as Tom remembered it. ‘But what about you, what will happen to you?’ he said.

  ‘Me? Oh there’s no need to worry about me. I’ve had a long life and a good one. It’s you I’m concerned for. You’re young. You’ve your whole life ahead of you. Just promise me you’ll do what I’ve told you to do.’

  Tom promised he would though he knew that the promise would alter the course of his life. He thought of his mother and Emma. Could they survive with him? They could but he’d have to convince them that Mrs. Kandinsky’s predictions were right which wouldn’t be easy. February the twenty ninth was still months away. There was time to plan. Rather than making hasty decisions he needed to think things through. In bed that night he considered his moves. He’d have to resign, convince his mother to move and somehow persuade Emma to leave her job and her parents and join them.

  At work next day Tom left his computer on several occasions and made his way over to Emma’s desk on the pretext of needing information. Emma, aware of everyone watching, attempted to hide her embarrassment at the personal nature of Tom’s questions. He asked if she was happy at work and if she’d ever thought about moving on. He asked how she’d feel about leaving home and living in a different place. She answered his questions honestly and breathed a sigh of relief when he went back to his desk. There were more questions as the week passed which made her wonder if it could be Tom’s awkward way of asking her to live with him. At this stage she’d no intention of moving away from home or giving up her job. She didn’t know what Tom was up to and she certainly wasn’t going to rush into anything.

  ‘Have you met her parents yet?’ Audrey asked as they set out on Sunday for Compton Bishop.

  ‘No,’ Tom replied pulling up outside Emma’s house. Without turning off the engine he sounded the horn.

  ‘Aren’t you going to knock the door?’

  ‘No need. I told her I’d beep when we picked her up.’

  Audrey noticed the curtains twitch as Emma came running down the path. If Tom showed no interest in Emma’s parents they were obviously interested in him. Audrey wound down the window. ‘Would you like to sit next to Tom dear? I don’t mind moving.’

  ‘Thanks but I’ll be fine,’ said Emma climbing into the rear seat. After Tom’s intrusive interrogations earlier that week she was happy to sit in the back in case he began asking more questions. She needn’t have worried. For most of the journey Tom said nothing while Audrey talked almost non-stop. Tom was unusually preoccupied and had other things on his mind.

  ‘Look! There’s St Andrew’s,’ Audrey exclaimed as they drove up a narrow lane towards the church.

  ‘And that’s Crook Peak,’ added Tom, ‘behind the tower, do you see?’

  Surprised to hear his voice after he’d said nothing for most of the journey, Emma looked at the hills wrapped like a protecting arm around the village and church. Spotting the peak she said, ‘I can see where it gets its name.’

  ‘Unusual isn’t it?’ said Tom. ‘Looks like the tip of a Mr Whippy ice cream curled over at the top. When you get there it’s just a pile of rocks. But wait till you see the view!’

  Audrey took this as her cue to rein in her son. ‘I’m not sure Emma will want to climb to the top. She might prefer to wait in the car with me if you must go up there again.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ said Tom, ‘after we’ve been to the grave.’ Emma kept quiet sensing a tricky dilemma ahead.

  The peak had disappeared behind the brow of the hill when they reached the church. Tom removed the flowers and a pair of shears from the boot and they walked through the wrought iron gate and along the path in the shadow of a yew. ‘The grave’s round the back,’ he said leading them over the uneven grass to the tree-covered patch of land behind the church. On their way around he lifted a wooden hatch concealing a well set in the ground. He filled a container with water for the flowers. Emma stood back and watched as Audrey put the flowers into a pot while Tom clipped away at the overgrown grass surrounding the grave. With the footstone revealed Emma read the inscription embossed on its surface: Here lie the bodies of George Gray and his wife, Lily. R.I.P. Also of Reginald, their son was added below. Apart from that the dates were all that remained of the three lives unknown to Emma. When all was done they went into the church. Audrey commented on the organ which once had been pumped by Tom’s grandfather George. She skimmed through the leaflets and notices and signed the visitor’s book.

  They returned to the car for the short drive around the hill to the car park perched at the side of the road overlooking the River Axe and the Somerset levels. It was time for Emma to make up her mind. Would she climb the hill with Tom or stay in the car with Audrey? In the end she reached a compromise which appeared to satisfy both. ‘I’ll walk some of the way with Tom,’ she said, ‘then come back to wait with you while Tom carries on to the peak.’

  ‘Don’t feel you have to rush,’ said Audrey settling back into her seat and closing her eyes.

  Though Tom would have liked her to see the view from the top of the hill, what he really wanted to show her was less than halfway up. At first the path app
eared to be going away from the peak on a gentle rise but after a while it turned back on itself and grew steadily steeper until it reached the brow of the hill. Later Tom would walk on to the peak over springy grass cropped short by sheep but not until after he shown Emma the cave. ‘There’s something I’d like you to see,’ he said standing by the rock face and pointing to the bottom. ‘It’s a bit of a scramble but I’ll go first and help you down.’

  Emma went to the edge and looked. ‘Are you sure it’s safe?’

  ‘It’s perfectly safe. I’ve been there before.’ He began climbing down and held out his hand for Emma. She gladly took it and liked the touch of his skin against hers. Perhaps it would be the start of something more intimate. Noticing Emma’s reluctance to take the short jump at the bottom he took hold of her waist and lifted her down. ‘Well, what do you think?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s very secluded. Is this what you wanted to show me?’

  ‘No, look there!’ He pointed towards the cave and took her inside. ‘Do feel anything? I love it. It’s so warm and homely. How would you feel about spending a day and a night here with me?’

  Shocked by the question Emma wondered where it was leading. ‘I can think of nicer places,’ she said. ‘Isn’t it time we moved? Your mother will be wondering where we are.’

  Her reaction disappointed Tom but there was time for her to change her mind. He’d taken the first step and shown her the place where they’d be saved. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘we’d better be going. If I leave you back on the path can you find your way down?’ Telling him she’d be fine they climbed back up to the path and separated.

  ‘Did you have a good time?’ Audrey asked when she returned.

  ‘Yes, it’s beautiful. Did you and Reginald live here?’ She wasn’t going to mention the cave.

  ‘No but his father did,’ Audrey explained before going on to give an exhaustive account of the family history which lasted until Tom returned.

  On their way home Tom made an unexpected stop in Wells. Promising not to be long he dashed up the street and returned with a handful of house particulars.

  ‘What are they for?’ Audrey asked.

  ‘Just some designs for work.’

  Audrey believed him but Emma didn’t. Tom as one of the senior architects had grander things to work on than house designs.

  From Wells Audrey slept and Emma sat in the back saying nothing. Tom concentrated on driving. When they reached Emma’s house she invited them in but Tom made some excuse about needing to get his mother home. Audrey wanted to meet Emma’s parents but she didn’t argue. ‘Did you enjoy your walk?’ she asked later that night as they sat eating supper. ‘How far did you take her?’

  ‘Just to the brow of the hill.’

  ‘Did you talk about much?’

  ‘Not much.’

  ‘Have you planned to meet again?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Are you fond of her?’

  ‘I like her.’

  ‘Good because I think she’s fond of you and if you want to keep her you’ll have to be a little more thoughtful. It was rude to drive off when she invited us in.’

  ‘She was only being polite.’

  ‘I don’t think so but have it your way. I’m off to bed. Don’t stay up too late. It’s Monday tomorrow.’

  On Monday all eyes were fixed on Tom as he tapped on Mr. Dyer’s door and disappeared into his office. Watching them talk behind the glass partition everyone wanted to know what was being said. The exchange lasted for ages. Every now again Mr. Dyer threw up his hands while Tom seemed perfectly calm and relaxed. When the meeting ended Tom walked out of the office and carried on with his work as though nothing had happened.

  ‘What was all that about?’ said one of the girls to Emma.

  ‘How should I know?’

  ‘Why don’t you ask him?’

  ‘Maybe later.’ Emma pretended not to be interested but after a short time she went over to ask Tom what the meeting had been about.

  ‘I’ve resigned,’ said Tom, ‘well, given a month’s notice.’

  ‘You’ve what?’ Emma looked astounded. ‘Why?’

  ‘I’ll explain later.’

  Audrey was as shocked as Emma to hear of Tom’s resignation but after he’d explained his supposed reasons for wanting a change she began to warm to the idea.

  His real reasons he kept to himself. What mattered was to set things in motion. The truth could be revealed when the necessary moves had been made. He convinced Audrey he’d saved enough to keep them until he found a new job. As both of them had always dreamed of moving to Compton there was nothing to stop them. They’d sell their house and look for a cottage as soon as possible. That, he explained, was why he’d collected the house particulars in Wells. After they’d settled he’d find a less stressful job that gave him more time to be with her and she could visit the grave whenever she wanted without the onerous business of having to make long journeys.

  ‘What about Emma?’ Audrey asked.

  ‘I’ll ask her to join us.’

  It never occurred to Audrey that Emma might have other ideas. She was thrilled at the thought of settling with both of them in the place she’d always wanted to live. ‘When do we start looking for somewhere?’

  ‘As soon as you like. We could begin this Saturday. I’ll ask Emma if she’d like to come.’

  Tom gave Emma the same reasons for wanting to move as he’d given to his mother but didn’t mention the possibility of her living with them. He asked if she’d like to come house hunting with them on Saturday and she said she would. If nothing else she’d be interested to see where they’d be living and although she had no intention of giving up her own job or moving anywhere she wanted to keep in touch even if a romantic relationship with Tom was beginning to seem increasingly unlikely.

  They left as arranged on the following Saturday and stopped at Wells for a break before beginning on the house-hunting. Audrey was keen to show Emma the market place. After they’d seen it she’d take her to the Cathedral restaurant for coffee. The two women sauntered around the market stalls while Tom sat patiently under the Penniless Porch, an ancient stone archway where vagrants once sat and begged. Now and again he caught sight of them fingering materials and inspecting trinkets that held no interest for him. After circling the entire market they rejoined him with their carrier bags full of what Tom regarded as meaningless trash.

  Coffee was a prolonged affair not helped by Audrey’s insistence on spending time in the Cathedral shop were she added to her collection of purchases with bookmarks bearing platitudes and packs of Somerset fudge. When the shopping was done Tom took them into the Cathedral and led them up the nave to the scissor arch and into the north transept. ‘There are two things I’d like you to see,’ he said, ‘the fruit stealer’s pillar and the Chapter House.’ Audrey had seen both on countless occasions.

  ***

  ‘Hold on,’ I said, ‘Haven’t we covered this ground already with Simon and Matthew?’

  ‘Briefly,’ said Howard, ‘but on that occasion Matthew was in a truculent mood and dismissive of all he saw. This was different. Tom was enthusiastic. He was on an important mission. The pillar and the steps to the Chapter House were part of his step by step plan if you’ll pardon the pun of preparing his mother and Emma for what was to come. He was sowing the seeds for a revelation which he would later reveal in its entirety.’

  ‘I see,’ I said. I was suffering from indigestion after eating too much bread with my soup but I let Howard go on.

  ***

  Pointing to the four carved scenes encircling the top of the pillar Tom gave a brief description of each: the man and boy stealing fruit, the farmer being told of the theft, the farmer grabbing the thief by the ear and the farmer thumping their heads with a stout stick. ‘What do you think it means?’ h
e asked.

  ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ said Emma. ‘Two people scrumping get their comeuppance.’

  ‘But are they stealing apples or are they grapes? Could it be that the carvings represent the grapes of wrath or the forbidden fruit?’

  Audrey had lost interest. She wandered off to look at the wall plaques. Emma indulged him. ‘How do you mean?’ she asked.

  ‘Could it be that the man who sculpted the scenes had some foreknowledge of the future and was warning us of things to come?’

  ‘What kind of things?’ Emma was beginning to sense Mrs. Kandinsky was behind all this but she let Tom carry on with his exposition.

  ‘Say for instance that the thieves represent mankind, you, me and everybody. Like the fruit thieves we’re all guilty of plundering the earth and robbing its resources - minerals, timber, all sorts of things. We’ve been doing it since the beginning of time. Even the sculptor was using stone quarried from the hills so we shouldn’t be surprised if we have to suffer for it in the end.’

  ‘How, by being walloped by a farmer?’

  ‘Not just walloped, killed, finished. Look how stout the stick is! Perhaps that’s what the sculptor was saying. Think of the punishment the thieves get! Nobody would survive a blow to the head like that, would they? Perhaps he foresaw a universal disaster and was warning us of how final and sudden the end would be.’

  ‘Like someone coming and bashing in our heads in one by one?’

  ‘Not one by one but all at once, maybe by a large meteorite wiping out everything or perhaps by atomic or germ warfare. Nobody knows how or when it will happen.’

  ‘I don’t think a medieval workman would have known much about meteorites, or atomic warfare.’

  ‘I’m not saying he did. It’s just that I think the carving is a metaphor and that the carver was trying to a warn us of some future catastrophe.’