‘Janet. Ring Janet.’ Joss dug Luke in the ribs.
‘OK. OK. Wait.’ He put the receiver down and picked it up again.
In Janet’s house too, the phone rang on and on unanswered.
37
Cuddled up on the end of Lyn’s bed Kat stood up. Staring with huge eyes towards the half open door she arched her back and spat in terror. In a fraction of a second she had leaped from the bed and disappeared through the door and down the stairs in a blur of yellow, black and white fur.
Lyn woke very suddenly and lay staring at the ceiling, her heart thudding beneath her ribs. She listened hard, focusing on the doorway. Had one of the children stirred? She had left all the doors between them open a little so that if one of them cried she would wake up.
The house was very silent. Her gaze went to the window. She had left a crack open between the curtains and beyond them she could see the sky, bright with moonlight. There must be a heavy frost out there; there didn’t appear to be a breath of wind. For several moments longer she lay still then, reluctantly she pushed her feet out of the warm bed and reached for her dressing gown.
She had left the landing light on. Padding across it she went through Joss and Luke’s empty room. The curtains there were open and moonlight flooded across the floor. Standing still for a moment she stared round, half expecting to see something out of place. But there was nothing wrong that she could see. Pulling her belt a little tighter around her waist she tiptoed through towards Tom’s room. He was asleep, his thumb in his mouth, having kicked off all his bedclothes. He seemed warm enough though, his small face pink and relaxed in the glow of the night light near him. Pulling his covers up Lyn tucked them in, careful not to disturb him, then she turned towards Ned’s room.
The cot was empty.
She stared at it for several seconds, her stomach tying itself in knots, then she flew back across to Tom’s room.
‘Tom? Tom wake up! Tom what have you done with your brother?’ Oh please God let him be all right! She was shaking like a leaf. ‘Tom, wake up!’
The little boy opened his eyes slowly and stared up at her sleepily, his eyes blank.
‘Tom!’
There was no recognition in his gaze.
‘Tom, wake up!’ She shook him. ‘Where’s Ned?’
He was looking at her vacantly, his body awake but his mind still lost in some dream far away. ‘Oh please God, let him be all right!’ She couldn’t hear the baby crying. If he was cold or hungry he would cry as loudly as he could, unless – she did not let herself pursue that thought. ‘Tom, darling, I want you to wake up and help me.’ She took the little boy’s shoulders and pulled him into the sitting position. ‘Can you hear me, sweetheart? I need you to help me.’
He was beginning to move at last. Puzzled, he blinked several times and at last the thumb went back into his mouth. She smiled at him, trying to keep her voice gentle. ‘Now. Were you playing with little Ned?’
Tom nodded.
‘Do you know where he is now?’
The little boy shook his head.
‘Try and think, Tom. Where were you both playing? It’s important. Ned is cold and frightened all by himself. He wants us to go and find him.’
‘Tom show Lyn.’ He scrambled to his feet.
Lifting him out of the cot she put him down on the floor and pulled on his small pale blue dressing gown. ‘That’s it. Now slippers.’ Her hands were shaking so much she was finding it difficult to dress him. ‘Now, Tom, show me where he is.’
Tom took her hand and skipped confidently out into his parents’ bedroom. From there he led the way across to the landing and on up the attic stairs. Lyn was trembling. It was bitterly cold up there. No heating relieved the iciness as they walked through into the first attic.
‘What were you doing up here, Tom?’ she asked as he led the way across the floor towards the door in the far wall. ‘It’s dark and cold.’
‘The moon.’ He gestured towards the window. ‘Georgie wants us to play in the moon.’
Lyn swallowed. Opening the door she peered into the darkness of the passage and then at the doors opening off it. Moonlight flooded across the dusty floor boards. ‘Where’s Ned, darling? Show me quickly.’
Tom seemed less confident now. He hung back. ‘Don’t like it.’
‘I know. It’s cold. But Ned is cold too. Let’s fetch him and then we can all go back downstairs to the warm.’
Still unwilling to move, Tom pointed ahead of them. ‘He’s there.’
‘There? In the next attic?’ She ran towards the door, leaving Tom standing in the middle of the room. He had begun to cry.
The door was locked. ‘Oh no. Please God this can’t be happening. It can’t.’ She spun round. ‘Tom, where’s the key?’
He shook his head, tears running down his cheeks.
‘Darling, please, try and remember. We have to have the key. Poor Ned is very cold. We must find him quickly.’
‘It’s Georgie’s key.’
Lyn took a deep breath. ‘Georgie is imaginary, Tom. He’s not really there. He can’t have a key. Tom has got the key. Where is it?’ Her voice was beginning to shake.
‘Georgie put it on the door.’ He pointed above the doorway. She stared up at the pale, worm-eaten beams which framed the room, then she reached up, feeling on the dry, splintered wood. A heavy iron key, dislodged by her groping fingers fell down with a clatter and lay at her feet. Grabbing it she tried it in the lock. It was very stiff, but at last it turned and she managed to force the door open. There was what seemed a cruelly small bundle of blankets lying on the floor in the far corner.
‘Ned?’ Icy with terror she ran towards it and fell on her knees. For a moment she thought he was dead. He lay quite still in her arms, his eyes shut, then as she clutched him against her they fluttered open and he stared at her. For several moments he did not move then at last he gave a big smile of recognition.
‘Oh thank God! Thank God! Thank God!’ She was crying now in earnest.
Behind her Tom crept into the room and came over to her. His hand clutched at her dressing gown. ‘Is Ned happy now?’
‘Yes, darling. Ned is happy now. Come on, let’s go downstairs and get warm.’
She took them both down to the kitchen. Warming milk on the stove she was thinking very hard. Of course, he must have fetched a chair to put the key so high; but why? Why should the little boy want to get rid of his brother. She glanced at Tom who was sitting half asleep on the rocking chair, cuddling Kit. Ned, in his bouncy chair was watching her alertly, obviously pleased with the idea of a warm night-time drink – something he had finally relinquished as a regular activity weeks before. Of course hostility was common in elder children when their siblings arrived; very common; it wasn’t really surprising. It was only odd that Tom had shown no sign of it before.
As if conscious of her gaze Tom looked at her suddenly. He gave her a sleepy smile. ‘Georgie likes Ned,’ he said slowly.
‘Everything OK?’ Jimbo was standing in the doorway next morning watching as she cooked breakfast.
‘Fine. Why shouldn’t it be?’ Astonishingly, she felt pleased to see him. She took two pieces of toast from the toaster and put them in the rack. ‘Would you like some coffee?’
He hesitated, then slowly nodded. ‘All right then. Thanks.’
‘Sit down.’ Lyn spread the pieces of toast and cut them into fingers. ‘Is something wrong?’ He was still standing by the door.
‘No. No, I suppose not. Thanks.’
He moved into the room awkwardly, half shy, half nervous and inserted himself without pulling it out onto a chair which was drawn up close to the table.
Lyn smiled to herself. Putting a large cup of coffee down in front of him she turned back to the dresser. ‘Do you want some toast now you’re here?’
‘Might as well. Thanks.’
‘Help yourself to milk and sugar.’ She paused. ‘Jimbo, what is it? I’m not going to bite you.’
He blus
hed scarlet. ‘I know that. It’s just … it’s just I reckon I don’t like this house, that’s all. It don’t feel right. I don’t know how you could stay here by yourself.’
‘There’s nothing to be afraid of here.’ She sat down with her own cup. ‘Nothing at all. It’s a lovely house.’
‘Look at what happened to Reverend Gower.’
‘A heart attack can happen to anyone.’
‘I suppose so.’ He shook his head. ‘And Mary Sutton. What about Mary Sutton?’ He had finally told her about Mary’s death the evening before. He shrugged. ‘I reckon that had something to do with this house an’ all. You heard when Joss and Luke are coming back?’
Lyn shook her head. ‘There’s no hurry. They need the break. There’s nothing wrong in the work shop, is there?’
‘No. That’s all fine. You’ll be staying on here on your own then, until they get back?’
Lyn nodded. ‘Try and look a bit more pleased about it.’
He gave a tight little laugh. ‘I’m very pleased. I don’t like being up here, even outside, on my own. I was just thinking about those kids.’ He gestured towards Tom with his head. ‘I don’t like to think of them up here. Things happen to kids in this house.’
‘Oh please. Not that again.’ Lyn stopped. The night before, after giving them their drinks she had put the boys back to bed. Then she had switched on the baby alarm in Ned’s room, and threading the wire under the door had put the speaker in her own. She had not liked locking the door on the baby, but the key was not going to leave her person. She had threaded it on a piece of ribbon and hung it round her own neck. The rest of the night had been peaceful, but this morning – she chewed her lip again at the memory – this morning when she let herself into the room to the contented sound of Ned’s gurgling away to himself in his cot, she had found him playing with a small wooden elephant that she did not remember ever having seen before in her life.
‘Something wrong?’ Ever alert, Jimbo had noticed her sudden silence.
She shook her head.
‘Right.’ He plainly wasn’t going to press her. Standing up he drained his mug. ‘I’d best be getting on.’
‘What about your toast?’
‘I’ll take it with me, if that’s all right.’ He scraped some honey onto it and turned towards the door, stopping at the last moment to turn back to her for a second. ‘You sure you’re all right?’
‘I told you!’
‘Yes. Right.’
She stood silently for several seconds after he had gone, then she shrugged and shook her head.
Tom looked up at her for a moment and stopped chewing. He wondered why Aunty Lyn hadn’t noticed the woman standing behind her; it was the woman who had carried Ned up to the attic and then beckoned him to follow. She hadn’t seen the tin man last night either. He took another solemn bite out of his toast finger. If she wasn’t frightened he supposed it must be all right.
‘You don’t usually come home dinner time. What’s the matter boy?’ Jimbo’s father was reading the Mirror at the kitchen table amid a litter of take-away containers from the night before.
‘I want to talk to Nat. You got her number?’
‘You leave your sister alone, Jim. She doesn’t need you ringing her at work.’
‘She said I could any time. And this is important. They’ve got problems up at the Hall, and I reckon she should come over and speak to them.’
‘Oh no. Now you keep your nose out of all that. If I think you mean what I think you mean – ’
‘Dad. Listen. It’s bad. Those kids are in danger. That Lyn doesn’t have a clue. She wouldn’t see a tractor if it drove through her kitchen wall and ploughed up her breakfast dishes. With Luke and Joss away, it’s up to me.’
‘Luke and Joss, is it.’ His father put on a la-di-da voice. ‘They say you could call them that?’
‘Course. Shut up, Dad. Just tell me where the number is.’ Jimbo was riffling through the pile of old newspapers and notes on the kitchen counter beside the phone.
‘Up there. Pinned on the wall.’
‘Right.’ His face grim, Jimbo began to dial.
‘Nat, that you? Can you talk? It’s important.’ He glared at his father who was lounging back in his chair listening. ‘Listen, I reckon you need to come back here and talk to the Grants up at the Hall. Things are bad there again.’
He listened intently for a few seconds. ‘Yes. Joss has seen him; and the little boy. Reverend Gower came back to try and do something and he ended up dead. It’s only a matter of time before someone else gets killed. I reckon you’re the only one who can help.’
He scowled at his father who was shaking his head, looking up at the ceiling. ‘Yes. Joss will listen to you. She’s really nice. Luke doesn’t believe what’s in front of his nose and that Lyn who looks after the kids is as thick as two planks. It’s up to you. Reckon you can come home this weekend? Great!’ He beamed at the phone. ‘See you then.’
‘Your sister’s got better things to do than come back here and interfere with things that don’t concern her.’
‘No she ain’t. She’s pleased to help. You should be proud of her, Dad, not ashamed.’
‘I’m not ashamed.’
‘You are. And you called her a witch. That’s stupid. And sexist.’ Jim grinned. ‘Even I know that. Now, what you got for dinner? I’m starving.’
Janet had seen Lyn walking towards the village with the children in the double buggy as she was making her way up to the church to do the flowers. She frowned. She hadn’t realised they were back. Lyn looked very tired, and little Tom, she could see from the car as she drove past waving, was fast asleep. Neither of them saw her. Intent on her own thoughts Lyn was pushing the buggy across the village green, her head down, her steps weary, plodding in the direction of the village shop. She could catch them there after she had checked the church and topped up the vases with water.
Janet hesitated near the church door, gazing across the quiet churchyard to the spot where they had found Mary Sutton’s body. The village was still shocked at the tragedy and whispers were flying from door to door about what she had been doing out there in the dark and cold alone. The rector had rung Roy who was one of the churchwardens about what they had found in the church – the bread and wine on the altar, almost certainly that used in the exorcism at the Hall – and there had been an emergency meeting at the rectory. Roy did not tell her what they had discussed, but it seemed there would be no funeral in the church. Mary had always said that she wished to be cremated and her ashes scattered in the sea.
Letting herself into the shadowy nave Janet groped for the light switches and made her way towards the vestry. The church was looking good; Michaelmas daisies lasted well, and there were huge displays of them in the chancel and in front of the pulpit. She picked up the heavy brass water jug and began to tour each arrangement. In front of the small brass plaque to Katherine she stopped. Someone had left a bunch of white roses on the ground in front of it. She stared down at it thoughtfully. The church was open for visitors during the day. Anyone could have done it – so why did she feel suddenly so wary. She eyed the flowers then slowly she backed away.
Between one moment and the next the church had become uncomfortable; there was a strange feeling of hostility where usually she felt nothing but an all-encompassing peace and security. Hastily, with a glance over her shoulder she retraced her steps to the vestry and set the jug on its shelf. Coming out she pulled the door shut and made her accustomed small bow to the altar before walking quickly back down the aisle towards the door at the rear of the church. Four pews from the end she stopped. There was something between her and the door. She blinked. It was a trick of the light, a patch of sunlight thrown unexpectedly through the south windows out of the gloom of the morning onto the old flag stones. It looked like a mist, a slowly spinning mist. She caught hold of the pew end near her and shook her head, disorientated and slightly dizzy. It was moving almost imperceptibly away from the door across th
e back of the church towards the font, then as she watched it stopped, seemed to hesitate and then changed direction. It was moving east now, up the centre of the aisle towards her.
She took a step backwards and then another, her legs shaking so much they would barely support her. The church seemed very empty, the lights high on the roof beams directed up into the vaulted ceiling, the chancel still in comparative darkness where she hadn’t switched on the other lights. She glanced over her shoulder towards the altar and then turned and ran, skipping round the front of the pews and into the side aisle. The spinning mist seemed to hesitate then it moved on towards the chancel steps. Janet ran on tiptoe down the small side chapel, dodged round the pillar and reached the door.
Grabbing the ring she tried to open it. For a moment in her panic she thought it was locked, wrestling with it desperately, then at last the latch clicked up and she hauled the heavy door open, throwing herself out into the porch. Slamming the door behind her she ran out into the churchyard, taking deep breaths of the cold air.
There was no sunshine. The sky was heavy with cloud. She glanced over her shoulder, almost expecting to see the door opening, but the porch was still; the door remained closed. Head down, walking as quickly as she could she hurried down the path to her car and climbed in. Slamming down the locks she tried with shaking hand to insert the key in the ignition. After a couple of attempts she managed it and turned it on, revving the engine before shooting the car out onto the road.
Lyn was choosing some cold meats from the delicatessen counter when Janet walked into the shop. She glanced up as the door banged shut and smiled. ‘Tom says he’s hungry enough to eat that horse you gave him.’
‘That hungry, eh?’ Janet ruffled Tom’s hair. Her hand was shaking and she found she was shivering violently. Behind the counter Sally Fairchild glanced up from the meat slicer. ‘You look peaky, Janet. Something wrong?’ She was peeling the ham from the blade onto her polythened palm with a rhythmic hissing sound which had Tom mesmerised.
House of Echoes Page 41