No answer.
The further into the forest she ventured the more oppressive it became. Determined not to keep wheeling around to flash the torch behind her she plodded determinedly on. Not a sound. And yet there was a feeling she was not alone. A breath sighed on her neck. Eyes bored into her back. Hurrying along she called out repeatedly, “Marion! Marion!”
Five minutes or more passed and still there was no sound of the brook. This was the main path and she should be level with it by now. In total darkness the torchlight was weak, highlighting only a cluster of the nearest tree trunks. Perhaps there was no point to this and it would be a good idea to retrace her steps and wait at home? Marion would be looking for Snow – yes, that was it, and she would be the one to find her. This was not a good idea. Not good at all. Fear tugged at her inside. Someone else was definitely here. Close by. Watching but not speaking out. She stopped walking. Stood still. Then circled around several times, shining the torch in staccato flashes of light, half-expecting to catch a face peering back at her.
Should she turn back?
Again she circled three hundred and sixty degrees. And her heart almost stopped. A slight flicker of movement had caught her eye. Bloody hell, someone was there! The torch slid from her fingers, thumping to the ground, and from out of the shadowy depths a dark shape began to emerge.
Without the torch her eyes had to adjust quickly. Her breath stuck in her throat as, backing into a tree trunk, she held her hands out in front ready to fend off whoever it was.
But no one came forth. Her eyes strained into the blackness. No one was there. No one at all.
Puzzled, she leapt to pick up the torch while keeping her head up, constantly vigilant. There had been a dark shape – the form of someone - there had! Shrouded in black and utterly faceless. Her heart pulsed in great, sickly waves. She had to turn for home but her bearings had gone. Which way was forwards and which was back? Oh God, please help me.
Then out of nowhere it came again. Much louder now – only a few feet away – the baby crying. And something else - rushing water. Oh, thank God! Now she knew where she was. Picking up speed she hurried in its direction. “Marion? Marion? I’m at the Well.”
Even to herself her voice sounded tremulous and panicky, lost in the roar of water hurtling over rocks – thousands of gallons still pouring off the moors in torrents. The sight of it was like stumbling on an old friend and she almost ran toward it. As children they used to call this the magic pool, but it was in fact a natural spring around which had been built a stone encasement, locally known as the Holy Well. Five stepping stones led across the fast-flowing stream at the head of it, and for a split second she hesitated. If she crossed here the path would take her into the heart of the forest. Every instinct held her back. But the baby’s crying was escalating and there was still no sign of her sister.
“Marion?”
Should she cross over? Where would they be if not here? How could she go home without them, though, to wait alone and indefinitely? And she couldn’t leave a baby to die alone and abandoned….
When they were children walking home from school in the dark, Ellen instructed them to stick to the lane and to sing hymns loudly so she would hear them coming, and to protect them from the evil trolls lurking in the undergrowth. She had, Rosa thought, instilled in them just enough fear to put them on their guard. And it might not be a bad idea now.
The stones were slippery but she took them in five leaps and landed on the other side; the path now noticeably narrower and less well travelled. As she walked further into the core, the noise from the stream quickly became muffled and the canopy of trees more dense, obscuring both moon and stars. Fear prickled once again, but the spirit of her mother and the overriding need to find her sister infused her with a courage she didn’t feel.
The hymn came to her without further thought, her voice wavering at first but gaining in strength. “Immortal, invisible… God only wise… in light inaccessible hid from our eyes…”
She stopped. The baby’s crying! There it was.
“…Most blessed, Most glorious, the ancient of days…”
There…most definitely… so close now that if she reached out she’d touch it…
“…Almighty, Victorious…”
In fact, oh God, it was right next to her. Someone really had left a baby here, out in the woods to die… Holding out her arms either side in a star shape her gloved fingertips brushed against the pinpricks of holly. And happened on something soft and squelchy. Snatching at what she thought must be a stuffed toy she shone the torch onto its face, and instantly flung it aside. Someone close by gasped. Fresh blood was spreading through her gloves. She stared down at her hands in disbelief, already backing away, the torch light wobbling precariously in every direction.
“Who are you? Where are you?”
There was something in the path – the thing she’d thrown down. And the scream stuck in her throat as it caught in the sweep of light. A horrible malformed, waxen creature lay staring up from the mud, with long pins stuck through the spine, the legs and the neck.
“Rosa!”
She swung round with the torch on full beam.
“God, Marion. Oh, thank God.”
“Rosa, I’ve found it–”
“And you’ve got Snow with you. Thank God. Hurry, we have to get out of here right now.”
Marion pushed her aside to see what Rosa had been looking at. “This is it,” she said. “This place - I know what it is. I knew this afternoon. I’ve been here before, Rosa.”
“No, enough. We have to go. Is that the main path back? I can’t remember.”
“Yes, but I want to tell you—”
“Should we take this horrible thing back with us?”
“No, don’t touch it.”
“But it might be evidence of some sort.”
“Not the sort that would do anybody any good,” Marion said. “Rosa, listen to me – it came to me this afternoon and—”
“No, stop. We’ll talk later. There’s someone here watching us. Come on, hurry.”
Rosa set off at a pace with Marion and Snow in tow.
Breathless with trying to keep up, Marion continued to tell her what she wanted to say. “I had a feeling I’d been there before but I couldn’t be sure when or who with, but it came to me when I looked into his eyes this—”
“There’s someone behind us, I can hear them—”
“Yes. Yes, I think you’re right. I didn’t realise. Okay, keep walking. We’re right behind you. Focus on the path ahead. Can you see the stream yet?”
“No, it’s pitch black.”
“It does seem longer walking back, I have to say.”
“It’s a trick. We’re going in circles again,” said Rosa.
“You were singing. Let’s sing again like Mum used to tell us to. She’s here with us, I can feel her.” She grabbed Snow and held onto her, dragging her along.
“He who would valiant be, ’gainst all disaster…”
Both sisters sang loudly just as they had when they were children, as if Ellen would be waiting for them at the kitchen window like old times. Both pictured the image powerfully and clearly in their minds, hastening towards it as they sang, jumping across the stones and racing now along the path back to the house.
“I can see the lawn,” Marion panted, struggling with Snow who was constantly hanging back. “The fountain, all silvery. But I’ve got to tell you something, I’ve got to tell you now. Right now. Come on, Snow, you’re a dead weight.”
“Let’s get out first. Almost there.”
Bursting onto the lawn they still kept running, not daring to stop and turn round until they reached the fountain and collapsed against it.
“Rosa,” Marion panted. “Are you sure someone was there?”
“Yes, positive. I saw them.”
“But who?”
“I don’t know but I swear they were watching me…us. I didn’t see their face, just a black cloak or coat or hood
. Oh God, I can’t remember what they looked like, I’m shaking all over.” Tearfully she rounded on her sister. “Why the hell did you go off like that and in there of all places? You knew I’d have to tell you what happened this afternoon and you knew I’d have to come and find you.”
“Because I know the truth.”
“What do you mean? What truth? Marion, I’m scared to death and I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
Marion was shaking her head. “No, listen. It was coming to me gradually anyway, but now I know as sure as I ever will. During the snowstorm, after we got back and I was lying there with the flu and you were trying to look after Mum and cook for all of us - Well, I ran out of Valium for the first time since I was fourteen, and then I got really ill–”
“Why didn’t you—”
“Listen. I was delirious. I lay in cold sweats shivering and burning. I was wretchedly sick over and over, my stomach cramped day and night, and horrible, slithering things crawled out of the walls. The floor was covered in writhing cobras, and bird-eating spiders ran up the bedcovers. I had terrible nightmares. I stuffed rags into my mouth so no one could hear me scream. But the thing was, once I knew they were symptoms of withdrawal I decided to stay with it because a lot of the nightmares I realised weren’t hallucinations at all but real. Some things were repeated you see - incantations, the things that were done–”
“What do you mean? Oh God, Marion…”
Marion was as mad as a March hare. She couldn’t trust a word of this.
“I’m not mad, Rosa. Listen to me. I started to remember things. And since Mum wasn’t around to make sure I kept taking the pills I took my chance and asked you to look after everyone and—”
“Suffered in silence?”
“Yes. I told you it was a fever. I’m sorry but I had to know. Mum said it was all for the best that I took the pills, you see, and that I never remembered what happened. She didn’t want me to have the memories or the pain, I suppose. She meant well.”
Rosa frowned and shook her head. “Mum said? What memories? What pain?”
“Yes, that’s how I knew some of it was real – because I remember so well her telling me to take the pills and not to think about it again, to block it out. I’d been so scared all these years.”
“I don’t understand.”
“They took me there, Rosa - to that place with the weeping willow and the hollowed out trees. And they were all there… including Victor. He was just a child when you think about it, but the whole thing was dreamy and sickly as if I was drugged. I do know there were chains around my ankles and my wrists and I was looking up at the stars because that’s the image I see again and again. They were all there, Rosa, don’t you see?”
Rosa had turned to look at the house. Through a mist of tears for her poor, sick sister she focused on the kitchen light. “What do you mean, all there?”
Marion squeezed Snow’s hand and spoke in a whisper to Rosa. “Including the good Doctor. When he came to certify Mum’s death I saw his signet ring and recognised it.”
Rosa continued staring at the kitchen window. “It’s freezing out here. We should go inside.”
“Do you hear me, Rosa? They were all there – at the witches’ burial site. Thirteen of them. Vic raped me, Rosa.”
Rosa turned to face her sister. “Marion, he could only have been thirteen.”
“Old enough. And I was only fourteen, just turned.” She glanced at Snow, who was craning her neck back to look at the Milky Way. “And she’s the daughter he wants rid of. I suppose he was abused just as much as I was.”
“And Mum knew about this, you say?”
“She said it would get a whole lot worse if we spoke out. The thing is – I saw Victor today in a clear light, Caruthers, too. I felt this uncontrollable rage when I got into the house and then all at once it made sense. I thought if I can get to the centre of the maze again I will unblock that horrible memory and see their faces. And I will know what they did. I had a full awareness and a clear intent, you see, so they showed me—”
“Bloody riddles–”
“We see what our minds are open to, Rosa. I told you, it’s a place imbued with energy but you either tune into it or you don’t. I’m so angry it was used for such a wicked purpose. Someone really knows what they’re doing.”
“And that’s why you suddenly changed your mind this afternoon and took Snow out – so the answers would come to you?”
“Yes.”
“So - the doctor and the solicitor, and who else was present?”
“I can name them all apart from four. Four are shadows with no faces.”
“Marion,” Rosa said. “I’m scared.”
“I’m not mad and I’m not making this up.”
“No, not that. It’s…you know I said someone was watching us?”
“What do you mean?”
“I didn’t leave the kitchen light on.”
“You must have.”
“No. The generator isn’t working and I definitely didn’t light a lamp or leave a candle burning.”
Marion’s eyes widened.
“Come on, let’s go and see who’s waiting for us.”
When they reached the back door it was, however, to find it locked. Rosa fumbled for her key and pushed it open.
The house, bizarrely, now lay in darkness.
“Hold this,” Rosa whispered, passing Marion a broom. “You might need it. Wait here.”
“Oh, do be careful.”
Then suddenly Snow shoved past them both and ran forwards with her arms wide. “Hello, Grandma,” she said, lumbering over to the kitchen table. “Thank you for bringing us home safely.”
***
Chapter Thirty
Louise
It took three weeks all in all for the snow to thaw completely. And with Grandma Ellen’s funeral and so many other things to think about we’d all stopped talking about the lady in the boot. The police had drawn a blank. The husband had been released without charge, and no one knew of any reason why she had been murdered. Hazel Quinn had been an ordinary housewife and although she had a womanising husband, he had witnesses who saw him miles away on the night in question, and who could vouch for the fact he’d been snowed-in for several days afterwards.
Grace Holland had also been questioned but again there were witnesses who saw her leaving The Plug and Feather peaceably with Hazel on the evening of the blizzard. Word had it the ladies were a little tipsy and had linked arms as they left. Grace also had an elderly mother to look after – one who confirmed her daughter was at Alders Farm on the night Hazel had gone ‘driving out alone on th’ moors without the sense ’ou was born with.’ And like everyone else they’d been cut off for three weeks by snow. Grace had gone out that night in high heels and hadn’t even had the car out.
“It must be the vampire axe-murderer on the moors,” Iddy concluded.
“There’s certainly somebody as is very dangerous about,” said Dad. “I don’t want any of you kids wandering about after dark ’til ’e’s caught, do you ’ear me?”
“Do you think as she got lost up there after taking our Grace back to Alders farm?” Mum said. “Took a left instead of a right? Then ’ou couldna turn that big car round and ended up ’aving t’ walk?”
“And that’s when she bumped into the vampire axe-murderer on the moors?” said Iddy.
Dad nodded. “Aye, I reckon something like that, duck.”
Mum was nodding. “It’s a rum affair, that’s all as I know. Makes you frightened to walk ’ome on your own.”
“I’ll come up to th’ mill and walk back with you ’til th’ lighter nights kick in,” said Dad.
“Dunna be so daft you silly bugger. There’ll be a group on us any road.”
“Right, well as long as none of you go wandering about on th’ moors then, do you ’ear me? Not until they’ve caught the bugger.”
We all nodded. Our imaginations were already in overdrive and soon it was all round the villa
ge how a giant axe-man was roaming the moors. How he had a beard dripping with blood; mad, bulbous red eyes, and loomed out of the fog when you were least expecting it. We practically ran home from school convinced he was breathing down our necks, pounding after us.
But the day after my grandma’s funeral there was news. It came just as Valentine Dyal was about to begin Saturday Night Theatre on the wireless. We were all sitting round it waiting for him to start.
“This is your storyteller,” he said in the somewhat sinister voice that sent us all tingly, “The Man in Black.”
My mother was knitting, her head tilted towards it, so we knew she wanted to listen to every word and were not to interrupt. The fire was a red-hot furnace; I was doing crochet feeling a bit sleepy, and the boys were doing fretwork.
Dad must have been working late because I remember the back door latch clicking and him shouting he was home. “We’re going to have a television set,” he said, still taking off his hat and coat. “I’ve just had this family as want the whole house clearing and the old woman, well, she ’ad a lovely—”
“Shush!” Mum said.
By then we’d run over to him, though. Something exciting and nice was happening and we were jumping up and down. The only person we knew who had their own television set was Auntie Flo. We’d been to watch it a few times but to get our own! “When are we getting it? What’s it like? Can we go and fetch it now?”
“I said shush,” Mum snapped. “Pipe down the lot of you. Shush a minute. News has come on… summat about that woman.”
She whizzed it up to full volume. The man with the clipped voice was talking urgently. “…with breaking news. A witness has come forward in the Danby murder case.”
Mum’s mouth formed a big, ‘O’ shape and we all held our breath.
Dad still had his scarf on, had only just hung his hat.
It seemed a sheep farmer had been up on the moors near Castle Draus on the night in question, and seen what police now believe could have been the murderer.
Dad shot over to the wireless and knelt down so his ear was a matter of inches away from the speaker.
The Soprano Page 21