Parliament of Rooks

by Karen Perkins

  17.

  Sitting in comfort, having breakfast served to me and my coffee cup refilled regularly was exactly what I needed and went a long way to bolstering my spirits.

  I didn’t want to leave the comfort of the White Lion and return to my building site, but it had to be done, and eventually I settled up and walked home.

  The build team had beaten me again and were sitting in their vans outside, waiting.

  ‘Morning,’ I said as they exited their vehicles and trooped into The Rookery. I received a few grunts in return and a reluctant ‘how do’ from Vikram.

  My good feeling from breakfast disappeared and I wondered what was going on now.

  ‘None of ’em slept well.’ Vikram had recognised the look on my face. ‘They all had nightmares, but none of ’em will talk about it.’

  ‘So it’s catching.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing. How about you, did you sleep okay?’

  He shrugged. ‘Well enough. What happened here?’

  I followed his gaze and saw the shards of broken wine glass. I’d forgotten about that – they still lay where they’d shattered before I’d fled last night. ‘Woody’s Grey Lady paid another visit.’

  ‘You saw her?’

  I glanced away from him, then back. ‘I-I think so. But I was spooked after the Woody thing, and had no lights but candlelight. Now it’s daylight, I-I’m not so sure.’

  ‘What did you see?’

  ‘Well, what you said. A woman glowing grey with a big bonnet, a gown gathered at the back into a bustle, and carrying a basket.’

  Vikram said nothing.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I don’t remember telling you about the basket.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I didn’t tell you about the basket. Everybody sees it – sometimes that’s all people see – but I realised when I got home I hadn’t told you about it.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Vikram made his habitual shrug. ‘It seems your imagination isn’t quite so rampant after all.’

  I sighed. ‘Thanks for that. I feel much better.’

  Vikram’s answering smile was gone before it was complete as a crash echoed from upstairs and Sparkly’s voice carried through the building.

  ‘You daft bugger! I told you to hold on to them wire strippers! Where the hell are they?’

  ‘Sorry, sorry, I don’t know where they’ve got to. I just had them!’ Snoopy said. ‘Sorry, Sparkly.’

  ‘And why the hell does everyone have to call me Sparkly? My name’s Sarah, and I never wear bloody sparkles!’

  ‘You’re a female sparky, lass, so you’re Sparkly. Get used to it,’ Omar butted in.

  ‘I’d better go calm things down before Gary calls her “mush”, and she really loses it,’ Vikram said, finally smiling and hurrying through the broken glass still on the floor, towards the stairs.

  ‘What on earth is going on here?’

  I twirled at the sound of her voice. ‘Jayne! What are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.’

  ‘It sounded like you needed a friend, so I pulled a sickie. Lara can’t make it today because of Hannah’s school, but she sends her best and wishes she was with us.’

  I embraced her and hung on tight. ‘Thank you,’ I whispered. ‘It’s so good to see you.’

  She hugged me back a moment, then pulled away. ‘Right, well, we’d better get that glass cleaned up and then you can fill me in properly on what’s been happening.’

  ‘Okay, but not here. Let’s take Grasper for a walk – I need to get out of this place.’

  ***

  By the time we had completed a very slow stroll to the bottom of Haworth Main Street, it was almost lunchtime.

  ‘Let’s try Haworth Old Hall,’ I said. ‘I haven’t eaten there yet.’

  ‘Lead the way, Verity. I hope that place isn’t haunted!’

  I slowed my step. ‘In a place this old, with this much history, everywhere is probably haunted,’ I said, aware my chest was tightening again.

  Drinks and menus in situ on the table, Jayne sat and stared at me.

  ‘What?’ I asked.

  ‘I think you’re worrying too much.’

  ‘Okay,’ I drawled, hoping she was right but knowing deep down in the pit of my stomach that she wasn’t.

  ‘Antony’s put you through hell in the past year, it’s no wonder you’re having weird and vivid dreams, especially about a man, and especially about a man who’s the opposite in looks to Antony.’

  ‘But what about the touches? The footsteps and sitting on the bed?’

  ‘You said yourself, you were either still half-asleep or had only just woken up. You were probably still dreaming.’

  I thought back to the caress in the shower. That had not been a dream, I was sure of it. I’d been fully awake for that one. Although, if I was honest, I had been daydreaming about Antony, hadn’t I? Maybe Jayne had a good point.

  ‘What about the Grey Lady – seeing her last night?’

  ‘Power of suggestion. You’re already on edge with the dreams and sleeping alone in a strange house – and a very old one at that. That builder bloke had already freaked out about the Grey Lady – more suggestion, judging by the legend that’s passed about. And you’d been drinking by candlelight. It wasn’t real, just a shadow.’

  ‘But I knew about the basket.’

  ‘Lucky guess.’

  I pursed my lips. ‘Maybe.’

  I’d run out of arguments, and I really, really wanted her to be right.

  18.

  ‘ ’Scuse me, love.’

  I stepped aside for a strange man carrying plastic piping and watched him climb The Rookery stairs. The plumbers had arrived.

  ‘Does that mean central heating?’ Jayne asked.

  ‘I think it might,’ I replied, and knocked three times on the closest door frame.

  ‘Wonderful.’

  ‘I doubt it will be operational by tonight.’ I laughed at the crestfallen expression on her face. ‘We’ll still be camping upstairs around the fan heater, I’m afraid.’

  Jayne shrugged. ‘Why is it so quiet?’

  I stopped and listened, confused, then realised what Jayne meant. Whilst there was plenty of banging and clattering – plus the constant rumble of the generator – there were very few voices, and none of the banter I’d become used to.

  ‘I’m not sure I want to know,’ I said, glancing at the wall where I’d seen the apparition the night before. ‘Come on, let’s go up, out of their way.’

  ***

  ‘Why can’t you leave the generator running for us?’ I asked Vikram. ‘There’s plenty of cable to run lights and heater.’

  ‘Sorry, love. Health and safety. Can’t run it when there’s no staff on the premises – insurers won’t let us.’

  ‘But ...’

  He shrugged. ‘Nowt I can do about it, love, sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay, Verity, the lamps have plenty of batteries and I’m sure we can work out how to get the camping stove running,’ Jayne said.

  ‘They’ll have rooms at the White Lion or Black Bull,’ Vikram said.

  ‘No, they’re booked up for Christmas,’ I said. ‘I was lucky to get a room last night, but it was the last one.’

  Vikram nodded. ‘I’ll stop in later, if you want – make sure you’re okay.’

  ‘We’ll be fine,’ I said. ‘But thank you.’

  ‘Sparkly’s not far off getting the wiring sorted,’ Vikram said. ‘If she doesn’t finish it tomorrow, she won’t be going home Friday till you have lights and heat for Christmas.’

  ‘Thanks, Vikram.’

  ‘No problem, goodnight.’

  ‘Did you see the way he looked at you when he was talking about staff being on the premises?’ Jayne asked once the door had closed behind him. ‘He was after an invite to stay!’

  ‘Don’t be daft.’

  ‘I�
��m serious – he’s definitely interested.’

  I shook my head. Vikram had warmed up since Monday, but he was very definitely not interested in me. ‘Shall we go see if the fish and chip shop is open?’ I asked to change the subject. ‘Then we don’t have to bother with that camping stove.’

  Jayne wasn’t fooled, but let it slide. We wrapped up and stepped out into the freezing December evening.

  ‘It looks so eerie,’ Jayne said. ‘The way the streetlights look like old gas lamps, and the haze around them; all the stone and cobbles, it really wouldn’t have looked much different a century ago.’

  ‘Longer,’ I said. ‘I think the gas came in the 1860s, so that’s a hundred and fifty years at least.’ I shivered as we walked. ‘You can almost feel the history embracing us.’

  ‘You’re not kidding,’ Jayne said. ‘If not for the odd parked car, I honestly wouldn’t be sure when we are.’

  ‘We should walk back through the graveyard,’ I suggested. ‘If you think this is atmospheric, try that place at night!’

  ‘You’ll not get me in there after dark! It was spooky enough in full daylight.’

  I smiled. I wasn’t sure ‘spooky’ was the right word – it was something more than that; something heavier.

  ‘Thank goodness, they’re frying,’ Jayne interrupted my reverie. ‘What are you having?’

  ***

  Half an hour later, with hot food before us, glasses of wine poured, Jayne’s lamps brightening my apartment, and wrapped up in sweaters and blankets, I felt at ease. I wasn’t concerned about Haworth’s ghosts, not in Jayne’s company. I smiled at the thought that she’d shooed them away.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing. I was just thinking how glad I am you’re here.’

  She grinned. ‘What else are friends for but to freeze to death with you in a haunted house four days before Christmas, eating fish and chips and swilling wine?’

  I laughed. ‘I do appreciate it, Jayne, honestly. More than I can say.’

  ‘I know, love.’

  ‘Oh don’t you bloody start calling me love, too!’

  ‘That’s better! I was surprised to hear you take it from Vikram.’

  I ignored her raised eyebrows. ‘I’ve given up. Anyway, one of the builders calls everyone “mush”, so being called love doesn’t seem so bad now. I’ve decided to ignore it.’

  ‘Oh my God, it would drive me crackers!’

  ‘How are Jenny and Michael?’ I asked when the laughter had died down.

  Jayne’s smile relaxed and she sipped her wine. ‘They’re fine – great. Jenny’s well on with her final year assignments, and Michael seems to be settling down at the ad firm okay.’

  ‘Will you be seeing them over Christmas?’

  ‘No. It’s their father’s turn for Christmas this year, I’ll catch up with them in the New Year.’

  I nodded, careful not to comment. Jayne had been divorced fifteen years and still hated her ex with a passion.

  ‘Next year, there’ll be rooms here for them too,’ I said and leaned over to squeeze Jayne’s hand.

  She shook me off and took another bite of battered fish, making me wait until she’d finished her mouthful before replying. I refilled her glass while I waited.

  ‘That would be lovely – I just hope they won’t be too busy in their new lives. They’re literally only going for the meal this year, apparently John’s furious.’

  She smiled and gulped her wine. I followed suit and refilled again.

  ‘But I guess that’s what happens.’ Jayne visibly pulled herself together – sitting more upright and squaring her shoulders. ‘They grow up, don’t they, boy?’ She ruffled Grasper’s fur and fed him some fish.

  The subject of children was still too raw for me too. ‘I wonder if he’ll come tonight.’

  ‘Who, Vikram?’

  ‘No!’ I slapped her arm with the back of my hand. ‘Behave. I meant the dream man.’

  ‘Ah, Heathcliff.’

  ‘I wish you wouldn’t call him that.’

  Jayne smiled. ‘Well, I hope he isn’t Heathcliff,’ she said, standing up and clearing away the empty plates. ‘You’ve had enough of dysfunctional men. Ow!’

  I leapt to my feet at the exclamation, Grasper’s frantic barking, and crash of dropped plates. ‘What happened? Are you all right?’

  ‘Someone pushed me!’

  ‘What? Who? There’s no one here!’

  We looked at each other.

  ‘Are you sure?’ I asked. ‘It was definitely a push?’

  ‘Yes! Two hands on my back. I was lucky I didn’t fall.’

  ‘The floor’s pretty uneven, are you sure you didn’t just trip?’

  Jayne stared at me, worried, then shrugged. ‘Maybe. I must have done. It’s just this place, it’s got me spooked.’

  We both jumped at a bang from the window.

  ‘Just a bird,’ she said.

  I gave a shaky laugh. ‘Now you know how I feel.’

  We both looked at Grasper who was still very vocal and seemed to be doing a little dance; leaping and twisting, his eyes following something neither Jayne nor I could see.

  ‘Is there more wine?’ Jayne asked.

  ‘Plenty.’

  19.

  ‘What have you found, Emily?’ Branwell called from further down the hill. ‘Don’t go too far away, you know Papa said I’m in charge and I’m staying over here with Anne.’

  Emily gave no sign of hearing her brother, and crouched motionless in the heather over the treasure she’d found.

  ‘Can you hear them?’ she asked.

  ‘Only a little bit. How did you know I was here?’ Harry asked.

  Emily looked at his wooden-soled clogs, and he understood.

  ‘I ran away from mill again,’ he confided.

  Emily made no reply. Harry watched her, intrigued as she studied the lapwing nest of chicks. She didn’t speak to him very much, but he didn’t take offence. She didn’t speak to anybody very much, except her brother and sisters, and then only when she had a mind to.

  He liked her silence; his world was normally filled with noise: the spinning machines at the mill, and the constant clack of the handlooms in the weaver’s gallery which took up the entire top floor of the row of cottages where he and his family had their home. The clop of horses, rumble of wagon wheels and shouts of draymen on the street. And of course the little ones’ cries and Ma’s sobs at the house.

  He lived with his eight brothers and sisters – seven now. The baby had died before even earning a name, and someone was always sickly. It was Mary and Robert at the moment, keeping everyone’s nerves on edge with their constant coughing and crying. As if on cue, Harry himself coughed, feeling the tickle of the fluff from the spinning room within his throat.

  ‘Hush.’ Emily rounded on him, her little face fierce. ‘You’ll scare them!’

  ‘Sorry,’ Harry whispered. ‘Can I see?’

  Emily regarded him with large, round eyes, considering whether he was worthy of the sight, then nodded and moved aside.

  Harry took her place then gasped as the dull, grey drizzle that had offered no respite for over a week turned to a sudden, drenching downpour.

  The sky turned so black it almost seemed night, high on the moor above Haworth, despite it yet being early afternoon.

  Harry regained his composure and bearings in the violently changed conditions, then lost them again as he saw Emily Brontë twirling in the heavy rain, arms outstretched and face turned to the sky.

  ‘Emily, Emily, come on, we have to find shelter or we’ll catch our deaths,’ Branwell called, to no avail.

  Branwell’s small face, turned up towards them, was serious and worried, but he had Anne to take care of, and the seven-year-old took his duty very seriously. Besides, he knew just how stubborn Emily could be.

  ‘Emily!’ Harry saw him scream. Saw because nothing could be heard over the enormous, thunderous
roar that exploded around them.

  Lightning flickered, followed by a lesser thunder.

  Something wasn’t right.

  Harry looked uphill and his mouth dropped open in shock. It was moving. The hillside was moving.

  Peat, heather and rock slid towards them.

  ‘Emily!’ Harry shouted, and ran to grab her. She had seen the danger, but instead of running for safety, she was trying to gather the lapwing nest with its brood of chicks into her hands.

  Harry pulled at her, but she resisted, and he had no choice but to pick up the child – thankfully small and thin for even her young age – and run, stumbling out of the path of the relentless, tumbling moorslide.

  The four children, Emily still clutching the lapwing chicks, hurried along a path that would take them out of danger, and also bring them back together; Branwell dragging a screaming five-year-old Anne alongside him, and Harry still carrying Emily.

  He put her down, his arms shaking, and she barely looked at him, her attention still wholly occupied by the birds. Did she not understand the danger she had been in herself?

  ‘Emily.’ Branwell sank to his knees when he reached his sister, and he and Anne clung to her. ‘Is all well?’

  ‘I think so,’ Emily said, holding out the nest. ‘I don’t know how their parents will find them, though, they had better come home with us.’

  Branwell and Harry looked at the way home. It was a river of gloopy, rocky mud.

  ‘How will we get home?’ Anne asked, her voice small and terrified.

  Branwell didn’t answer, but looked at Harry.

  ‘We’ll have to go round,’ Harry said.

  ‘No,’ Branwell said. ‘We’d have to go right round by Top Withens. That’s too far, especially in the rain and with Anne. Ponden Hall is much closer. We’ll go there and the Heatons can get a message to Papa. He shall come to fetch us.

  ***

  ‘Whoever heard of an earthquake in Haworth?’ the parson said when he arrived, having ascertained those of his children not yet in the custody of a school were all present and unharmed.