The Tide of Terror

by Stuart G. Yates

  “Jenny,” his voice very quiet, patient. “Something has happened. Are you alone?”

  “Alone?” She frowned, holding back the tears, sniffing loudly. “Yes, yes I'm alone…I don't—”

  “So, there's no one there? You haven't been attacked or anything?”

  Been attacked? Yes, of course she had been attacked, attacked by a ghost that was over eight hundred years old. An explanation that would only result in him slamming down the telephone and running as far away as possible. “No,” she lied. “No, it's just…just…”

  “You've got a computer?”

  “What?” She shook her head, confused. “What do you…what does my having a computer have to do with anything?”

  “E-mail me your address. I can hear it in your voice. Fear. Something has happened. Give me your address, send it now. I'll get some locals to come and make sure you're okay.”

  “No, Danny, it's not…Oh God, I should never have rung you…I'm sorry.”

  “Don't be daft. If something has gone wrong, I'm glad you turned to me. I've been thinking of you a lot.”

  “What? You've been thinking of me? Why would you do that?”

  “I'll give you three guesses. No, make that two. Better still, try one.”

  She laughed, despite herself. Slowly his words were having the desired effect. He was calming her down, re-building her resolve. “I'm all right, honestly. I just needed someone to talk to.”

  “Are you sure that's all it is?”

  “Positive. Really, there's nothing to worry about.”

  “Can you spare a few minutes?”

  “Yes. Of course.” She leant back, holding her head, the pounding not going away, but his voice sounding so good. He spoke to her for a long time, and he made her laugh, and for a few golden moments it all went away. The worry. The fear. At the end, when he wished her good night, he made her promise to send him her address anyway. And when Jenny finally replaced the receiver on its cradle, she reached for her laptop computer and did just as she had promised.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Her sleep, punctuated by dreams, was restless. The face, the skull, came to her out of the darkness. Its mouth hung open and from it wriggled worms, long and black. Snapping her eyes open, she sat upright, throwing the covers back, drenched in sweat. She remained like that for a long time until the dawn broke through her curtains and she had the courage to get up. The light made her feel braver, but the fear didn't pass.

  She showered, changed into her work clothes, and took Scruffy for a walk. Breakfast, something she couldn't face, would be taken later. Right now she simply needed to get out of that flat, take fresh air into her lungs, clear her head.

  The walk took her somewhere she had never visited before. A little lake, set back from the road. Someone was fishing there. She frowned at that and took a look at her watch. It was just gone seven. Perhaps the fish were easier to catch at such a time. She shook her head, never quite understanding what people found so enjoyable in dangling a piece of nylon into water, and turned to go.

  “Miss.”

  She stopped. Scruffy was busy rooting around in the coarse grass that grew along the pavement edge. At the sound of the voice, the dog grew tense, emitting a low growl. Slowly Jenny turned.

  The fisherman stood, looking over the wall. She couldn't make out his features, the hood of his coat plunging his face into deep shadow. Disturbingly, it made him look at little like the monk, dressed in its habit, the cowl voluminous, hiding all features. But that couldn't be.

  “Sorry to disturb you,” he continued, “but have you got the time please?”

  She let out her sigh very slowly, not wishing the fisherman to notice how relieved she felt. She looked at her watch again. “Six-thirty,” she said as she turned to go.

  Six-thirty? But she had only just glanced at her watch and noticed the time was gone seven. She shook her head. No, that…

  She realized then that she was no longer standing in the road.

  The transformation happened without a perceptible change in the air, giving her no warning of any change, in either her location or how she had got there.

  It was the beach. The morning was still and grey. a cold breeze coming off the river, the only sound the pounding of feet. Distant, but unmistakeable.

  Turning towards the direction of the sound, she saw a figure running quickly towards her. Desperately she looked for an escape route, but nothing presented itself. Only an outcrop of rocks, covered in slippery seaweed. She could try, possibly scramble over them, make her way to the other side of the beach. Far off, on the other side of the rocks, she could see a ramp, a set of steps. If they led back onto the main road, she could…

  But this was nonsense, she chided herself. How had she got here, and where was Scruffy. She lifted her voice, her cry piercing the morning chill, “Scruffy!”

  She waited, straining to hear the slightest growl.

  The pounding was coming closer. Stumbling backwards, trying to put more distance between them, she knew it was useless. He was relentless. She could see now it was a man. Plain as day. But not a monk, not in a habit anyway. A modern-dressed man. Jeans, padded overcoat. A cause for relief, perhaps. So why then did she experience such gripping, debilitating terror.

  Drawing closer, he at last slowed down. She could hear his laboured breathing, see the sweat lathering his face. Within ten feet or so of her, he came to a standstill, head hanging down, hands on hips, taking in great gulps of air.

  Jenny remained rigid but carefully looked around for something, anything with which to hit him. Better to defend herself first, ask questions later. Her eyes rested on a large, blackened piece of wood, and her heart gave a little jump. Stooping down, she reached out and took it in her grip. It was clammy, cold. Not very substantial, but enough. Perhaps. Keeping her eyes on the man, she slowly straightened, drawing back the club, preparing to strike.

  “Please,” he said, voice quivering, head still down. “Please…just wait…”

  She did. Not because of what he had said but because of how he had said it. His voice was desperate, pleading. A little boy's voice. Terrified. Taking in his breath much more shallowly now, he pulled himself upright and looked directly at her.

  “I saw you,” he said slowly, “from way off. I thought I was alone. And then, then I saw you. I'm sorry if I frightened you, it wasn't meant. Sorry.”

  Jenny, not convinced by any of it yet, shuffled her feet in the sand, giving herself better balance. Her grip on the wood tightened. “Just tell me who you are, and what you want.”

  “Who I am?” He shook his head, running a trembling hand over his perspiring forehead. “I thought you would have known.”

  “Thought I – why should I have known?” She flexed the wood, “I'll hit you so hard if you don't—”

  He brought up his hand, in a pitiful gesture of surrender. “No, please…I don't mean you any harm. I've seen you before, down here. On the beach. With a boy.”

  Her mouth fell open. “So it was you…” Again, she prepared to strike. “You'd better tell me what all this is about.”

  He nodded his head, looking around him quickly. “We haven't got long. He'll be here soon.”

  “He? What are you talking about?”

  “He's come back. Don't you understand any of it yet? What you dug up, on the beach, that pendant.” He shook his head, exasperated. “What have you been doing all this time…Listen, you have to try and take this in. Try and understand it…That pendant…It's mine.”

  “Yours?”

  “Well, my family's, to be precise. It belonged to my family, many centuries ago. It was stolen you see.”

  Jenny shook her head. “No…no, just hang on. Start again, right at the beginning. You can't just appear – I just can't appear…Tell me what's going on, what all of this means, because I'm fast running out of patience and I want answers.”

  He held up both his hands, palms out. “Whoa, hold on, none of this is my doing – I'm as confused
as you are. I was walking along, that's all. Then suddenly, whoosh! I'm here, on this beach. I see you, and the boy. Then you come after me and I panic. But I started thinking that perhaps you weren't all that dangerous, so I came back.”

  “No…wait. That can't be. Lawrence, the boy, he discovered the boat, the pendant…over a week ago. You've been here ever since.”

  His face was ashen. “Over a week? No, that's impossible, it was – it was only a few moments ago. Half an hour at most.”

  It was Jenny's turn to shake her head. She looked at her watch. It had stopped. A sudden thought, an idea, came to her. She walked up to the water's edge, bent down, placed her hand in the river. It didn't feel right, it was neither cold nor warm, just neutral. Almost with no feeling at all. The breeze, it was…meaningless. No birds sang, no noise came from motor cars. Across the river, no ships plied backwards and forwards. She wished she had a pair of binoculars, so that she could catch a glimpse of the clock on the Liver Buildings. Because a realization grew in her mind. Time had ceased. In some inexplicable way, both she and the stranger had been brought to a place where nothing moved forward. Trapped in a single moment. But why?

  “I don't understand this,” she said, looking out across the river again. “We've been brought here…but who by, and for what purpose?”

  “Him. He's brought us here,” the stranger came closer. “I don't know the reason. But I've seen him. Just before I saw you and the boy. He came to me, you see. Told me…” He closed his eyes, bit his lip. “I'm trying to remember his exact words…something about revenge. That was it, 'I will have my revenge.' What that means, I haven't a clue. Revenge for what?”

  “The pendant.” She was moving away from the river, drawing closer to him, keeping her back to him the whole time. “I understand, I think…” She turned to him. “What's your name?”

  The stranger shrugged. “Anthony. Most people call me Tony.”

  “No, I meant your surname.”

  “Cross.”

  Jenny brought her hand up to her mouth, trying to stop herself from screaming. Her stomach lurched, the blood running icy cold through her veins. The total horror of the situation dawned on her in a rush. “Oh my God,” she murmured.

  “What?” He gave a strained cry and stepped forward, “What is it? What has my name got to do with anything?”

  “You,” she managed, her voice hoarse and dry, no saliva left. “It's you. Oh my…The pendant. It's yours, you say?”

  “Yes. Of course. Always been part of my family. I…look, this is completely stupid…I'm completely stupid. My wife, she found me, you see.”

  “Found you? Found you where, when?”

  “I don't know how it happened. She found me wandering along this beach, early morning.”

  “When?” her heart was pounding now, expectation of what he was about to say almost proving too much for her. Her head was swimming.

  “When? Er…”

  “Think man! Think!”

  “Ten days ago. Maybe eleven.”

  “Ten days…you're sure it wasn't nine?”

  “Nine? I don't know…what difference does it make?”

  “Every difference.” She clenched her fists, fighting back the urge to pummel him into the ground, “Think! Was it nine days ago?”

  He closed his eyes, breathing, almost snorting hard down his nose. Suddenly, his eyes sprang open again. “Yes! It was nine days ago. I remember now, because my wife had a hospital appointment the same day and she was worried about it and…Why is that so important?”

  “Because,” she said slowly, her hands relaxing, “that was when I arrived on the mainland.”

  She looked out again across the river, her entire body feeling heavy, unsteady. She wanted to sit down, think things through. Try and find reasons…

  “I don't…” he came up to her shoulder. “ I fail to see the significance. What has any of this to do with your arriving here?”

  “Everything,” she said, her voice very flat. Her finger came up, pointing out towards the city of Liverpool. “And now it ends.”

  He followed her outstretched finger.

  From out of the dull grey distance a tiny boat slowly bobbed across the water's surface. It was a coracle. And inside it was a man dressed as a monk.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Jenny!”

  Something shook her, shook her hard.

  Whirling her arms around her, swatting away whatever it was that seized her, all of her fears spilled out in a single cry of, “No!”

  Eyes darting his way and that, she rubbed her eyes furiously with her fists and focused on the scene before her.

  Standing by the lake, with Scruffy still on her lead. Jenny was back in her own time.

  The strength drained from her in that single moment and she fell. But strong arms caught her and lowered her gently to the ground. She sat, on the pavement, staring into nothingness, breathing raggedly.

  “Is she all right, mate?”

  Jenny looked up. The fisherman. He'd pulled his hood back to reveal his face. An ordinary face. Youthful. A nice face. She smiled. “I'm fine. Thanks.”

  “Jenny,” Mark's face loomed close. He held her still, “what are you doing out here?”

  She frowned, trying to piece together the disparate moments, the confusion, the horror. “I was-er-taking Scruffy for a walk…” She gaped at him. “More to the point, what are you doing here?”

  “I got a 'phone call. From that policeman over on Alderney.”

  “Danny? Danny 'phoned you?” She put her head back, closed her eyes, such a wave of relief flowing over her that she almost wanted to cry. “Bless him. But how did you find me here?”

  “Luck. Intuition. I don't know. I went to your

  flat first, then tried a route I hoped you might take with Scruffy. Donna's gone down to the waterfront.”

  “Donna?” She turned away a little. “You like her, don't you.”

  “This isn't really the time to be—”

  “It's the time for you to be straight with me.” She held his gaze. He looked terrified. “I thought we had something; well, the start of something, at least.”

  “I never said.”

  “No, you never said. But I hoped. And when you invited me over…I thought…Stupid, wasn't I.”

  “No, not stupid at all. When I invited you it was because I hoped there would be a chance for us to…you know…”

  “But there was always Donna, pulling at your heartstrings.”

  “I didn't know she felt like that towards me.”

  “Like what?”

  “You know…Have I got to spell it out?”

  “I think you should.”

  He took a deep breath. Whilst he prepared himself, Jenny got to her feet, pushing away his helping hand. She glanced around to the fisherman, who stood, a quiet observer. She nodded and he turned away to go back to his place by the lake. “So…” she looked again at Mark. “You were about to say something.”

  “Yes. I suppose so.” Another breath. “It just sort of happened. We had a drink, after I'd got back from something…that's not really important. But I was feeling down, depressed about Robbie.”

  “Robbie? Your son?”

  “Yeah. He'd got himself into some bother, I had to try and help him through it…

  “But that was on Alderney? I thought it had all been sorted out?”

  “No. Not all of it. We-er-we had to go and sort something else. That's all. Anyway, when it was over and everyone was safe, I tried to go back to work, you know, plunging myself into everything. But I couldn't concentrate and I had to take some time off. It was then that Donna offered me friendship…” He blew out his cheeks. “And love.”

  The word hit her like a slap and she recoiled, suddenly feeling very stupid. Without thinking, she brushed away the tears from her eyes. “I see. So, Donna having reached out to you, you thought it might be a good idea to ask me to come over. Be your chaperone perhaps?”

  “No, it wasn't like t
hat…I was confused…nothing happened for ages afterwards…I thought it was nothing, that she just wanted a friend…Not…”

  “The simple truth is, you hedged your bets.”

  “What? No, of course I didn't.”

  “Yes, Mark, that is the reality of it. You thought you could have your cake and eat it. What man wouldn't? Two women chasing after you, you must have felt over the moon.”

  “Jenny…it wasn't like that. Honestly.”

  “Honestly? I don't think honesty has got much to do with it, if you ask me.” She pulled out a tissue and blew her nose loudly. “As soon as this thing about the pendant is over, I'm going back to Alderney. I know I'll be letting Paula down, but when I explain to her the reasons, she'll understand.”

  “Jenny, you don't have to—”

  “Yes I do,” she hissed. “I most definitely do. Now, I want you to tell me what you found out about Richard De la Croix.”

  He turned away, shaking his head and for a long moment he remained that way, not offering anything until, at last, he blew out a long breath, his shoulders sagging. “Quite a lot as it happens.”

  “Really? You said it might be difficult, him being a lowly monk and all.”

  “No. It was surprisingly easy. Richard De la Croix was one of the richest men in these parts round about the early twelve-hundreds.”

  “Richest? I thought monks had to take a vow of chastity.”

  “They do. Part of the Rule of Saint Benedict that all monks had to adhere to. The punishment for breaking the Rule was instant dismissal. And that meant ruin.”

  “So how come he was so rich?”

  “Because Richard De la Croix was not a monk.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sitting in the small office, Mark laid out the manorial rolls detailing the assets of Richard De la Croix. Jenny, standing beside him, peered down and scratched her head. “How on earth can you read any of that?”

  He shrugged. “Practise. Lots of it.” Turning to the many notes he had made, he ran his finger down the first page and stopped. “There's not a lot to go on, but he owned a farm, had tenants, and seemed to be very comfortable. The interesting thing is, only a few years earlier there is no mention of him. Nothing at all.”